Sterek: A Love Story
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: Sometimes friendship just isn't enough...
1. Prologue

Today was the day. I was finally going to attempt to become friends with Derek. All week I had been working up to it, prepping myself, and now I was standing outside the train depot, leaning against my jeep, willing myself to go inside.

It wasn't that I was scared, after nearly a year Derek didn't scare me anymore, but I had this feeling he was going to do something 'Derek-esque' and I was going to end up pushed into a wall or something. I mean, the guy couldn't take a compliment, he wouldn't accept a nice gesture, and I seriously doubted he wanted to be friends with me. I didn't even know if he _had_ friends.

And I'd never know unless I grew a pair and walked inside. So, with a deep breath, I pushed away from my jeep and strode towards the door. I'd be lying if I said I didn't try to turn around at least three times, but I eventually made it into the depot, and nearly ran into the Sourwolf in question as he was coming out.

He looked like he was on his way out. His keys were in his left hand, his sunglasses sat, perched on his head, his jacket was on, and he had his patented 'brooding and pensive' look plastered across his face. I swear, if I hadn't seen him smile (a rarity for him), I would have believed his face was stuck like that. He's such a Sourwolf.

"Hey," I said awkwardly when he stopped. His eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise he didn't respond. "I was wondering if you were busy. But it seems you are about to head out, so I should just…" I turned to leave, but he grabbed my shoulder, keeping me in place.

"What do you want?" he asked slowly.

"Me? W-why would I _want _anything?"

"Because you're here," Derek stated, his eyebrows furrowing, "and you look like you want something."

"Like I said, you're about to head out. Just don't mind…" I tried to leave again, but he still had a hold of my shoulder. He gave me a testy look; one I'd seen right before my head unnecessarily met a very solid surface. Not needing a concussion today, I sucked in a breath and quickly said, "Do-you-want-to-get-coffee-or-something-with-me?"

"What?" It's not every day that I was able to catch the great and mighty Derek Hale by surprise, but today I managed it. Score one for Stilinski.

I took barely a millisecond to celebrate before I repeated, a little slower, "Do you want to get coffee or something with me?" He gave me an incredulous look, so I plowed on. "It's just, I've noticed you barely leave this…" What to call his 'lovely abode?' Monstrosity? Hovel? Rat infested, stink fest he called a home? "…place, and when you do you're either patrolling for some big bad, stalking…" he glared at me. "Sorry, 'keeping an eye on' one of us, or just doing whatever it is Alphas do when they leave their lairs.

"I mean, don't you get tired of sitting alone, in the dark, brooding? You need more sun, buddy; more human interactions; more… something." I gave him my most winning smile and asked, "So, what do you say?"

He was quiet for a moment, either thinking over what I said or debating whether or not to throw me into the dumpster across the street (wouldn't be the first time), but eventually he said, "No." He then let go of my shoulder and walked around me.

I was stunned for _maybe_ six seconds, but I quickly snapped out of it, turned on my heel, and quickly chased after him. "Not even a small coffee? A donut? A cinnamon roll?"

"No," he repeated walking down the sidewalk, towards the direction of the old storage shed where he kept his car.

"Look, I am trying to become your friend," I snapped testily, following him, "and you are making that very, very difficult."

"I don't need a friend," he retorted stopping to check both ways before stepping into the street. "Leave me alone."

I stopped and he kept walking. Okay, so I saw my next move going one of two ways. One: I continued to follow him until he got so fed up he killed me. Or two: I left him alone and tried again another day. Now, as much _fun_ as the former sounded, I think the latter was the best choice, so, I smiled and, with an over exaggerated sigh, gloomily said, "Sure thing, Derek. See ya around."

I turned to leave, moving towards my jeep, and was barely six steps when I heard Derek growl and say, "Fine. Let's get coffee." Maybe there was a third option after all; score two for Stilinski.

I turned to face the glaring werewolf, a grin on my face, and stated, "I know the perfect place; just as long as you don't mind grunge music from the 90's." He just rolled his eyes and walked back to the sidewalk, stalking past me. I ran to catch up, ignoring his grumbling when I said, "This is going to be great, buddy." I tried to put an arm around his shoulders, but he growled at me, and I decided that was a terrible idea.

Okay, so maybe being friends with Derek was probably going to be harder than I thought, but that's okay. I had time. And I could be patient… sometimes. This was going to be hard, but not impossible. So, as we walked back to my jeep, I made a promise to myself that I would be friends with Derek even if it killed me.

I really hoped it didn't kill me.

* * *

**This is... I just... Sterek is slowly, ever so slowly, becoming one of my OTPs. Before Teen Wolf, I was never a Slash fan, but Sterek is just... I can't even describe why I like the couple, but I do. I really, really, really do.**

**So, anyway, that is why this is being written. This, guys, is officially my second Slash story. My friend Benny is going to have a field day with this, and most likely give me an "I told you so" speech, so we won't tell him. Let's just keep this amongst ourselves.**

**The Slash won't be featured until later though. I want their relationship to evolve slowly, but I will let you know the chapter beforehand.**

**So, thanks for reading, let me know if I should write a second chapter, and I do not own Derek or Stiles.**

**See ya!**


	2. The Right Direction

I've never liked uncomfortable silences. They always reminded me of when my mother was sick, how her hospital room was always filled with ear ringing, white noise, so I tended to fill heavy silences with as much chatter as I possibly could despite the fact that I've been told to 'shut up' more times than I could count. And the car ride with Derek was no different.

He mostly stared out the window, his expression a mixture of 'why am I even here' and 'don't talk to me Stiles.' I have always been bad at doing what I was told, so I drew in a deep breath and asked, "So, how's the pack?"

"Fine," he grumbled after a long pause.

"That's great," I replied nodding. "I haven't seen much of Boyd or Erica, but I see Jackson and _Isaac_ a lot. You know, lacrosse practice and…"

"What's wrong with Isaac?" Derek asked curiously, glancing over at me with furrowed eyebrows.

Of course he'd pick up on that. It probably didn't help that I said the beta's name with a little bit of contempt. Don't get me wrong, I thought Isaac was a _swell_ guy, but he was always around, following Scott like an obedient puppy, acting like they've been best friends their whole lives. Uh, news flash Lahey, I will always be Scott's best friend and you'll always be number two. Just because they had the whole 'beta' thing in common didn't mean they had much else in common. But other than that he was a great guy, I swear.

"Nothing," I muttered not going to share any of that with Derek. Isaac was like Derek's eldest child, and if I insulted the beta I'd be lucky to keep my head firmly attached to my body (and it really didn't matter which one).

"He's been hanging around Scott again, hasn't he?" Of course, it didn't exactly matter if I told Derek or not, the creeper would pick up on _that_ too.

"I don't _care_ who Scott hangs around," I told Derek, and if I sounded a little indignant it was all in his head.

"Right," he retorted sarcastically, nodding his head. "_Sure_ you don't."

"I don't," I repeated gripping the steering wheel just a little bit tighter than necessary.

"I believe you," he stated. I could tell he didn't, and I didn't care that he didn't believe me, either. I wasn't looking for his approval nor would I ever willingly seek it out. He was merely a creepy Sourwolf that needed to develop a healthy hobby. I heard my dad needed a fishing buddy. I should suggest Derek to him when I got home.

"How's Lydia?" Derek asked slowly, forcibly, tripping over the words, catching me by surprise.

"Are you attempting small talk?" I retorted incredulously. "Seriously? Derek Hale is actually attempting small talk?"

"Forget it," he grumbled glaring out the window.

My grin faded and I softly said, "We're friends now. She's with Jackson, and I'm pretty certain they aren't breaking up anytime soon."

I had thought I'd be devastated by the prospect of Lydia Martin never loving me like I loved her, but a part of me just didn't care. Maybe I hadn't _really_ loved her, or the past year just fucked me up so bad that trivial things, such as Lydia returning my love, just didn't matter anymore. Whatever the case, I chose not to dwell on it any further than I had to. Besides, Lydia was very low on my list of priorities right now… unless, you know, she's being stalked or threatened then she'd be a lot higher, but last I checked neither had happened to her (unless you counted Derek, but he stalked everyone, so I didn't) so she sank to the very bottom.

"Why do you suddenly _want_ to be friends?" Derek asked, changing the subject. I couldn't have been more grateful towards him.

"Why not," I retorted parking my jeep out front of a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. "I'm always up for making new friends." He grunted, but didn't say anything else.

In all honesty, I just really needed someone to talk to, and Derek seemed like the only person who I could confide in (weird huh?). With Scott hanging around Isaac most of the time, and Lydia spending a fair amount of her time with Jackson, I hadn't really been swimming in the friendship pool lately. I guess I could have always talked to my dad, but he still wasn't entirely in the know about werewolves. There was also Erica or Boyd, but they haven't been quite the same since the Alphas got a hold of them. And don't even get me started on Peter. The guy was _just _as creepy as Derek when it came to stalking. The only difference, Derek hadn't killed anyone in cold blood.

The fact that the guy was still around, still allowed to live amongst the residents of Beacon Hills, scared me more than the majority of what we have run into in the past year. What was stopping him from killing again? Derek could try, but I think Peter had an advantage on him, and it'd most likely boil down to a fight-to-the-death type of thing between the two, and I didn't want to see Derek die. Too bad the Argents weren't still hunting.

"Are we going to go inside?" Derek asked, snapping me back to reality. I blinked twice, glanced over at him, and nodded.

Together, we got out of my jeep and walked inside. There were a dozen or so tables, scattered around the room, giving the place a cramped feel to it. _Pearl Jam_ played softly in the background, easily heard over the low murmur of the four people sitting at a table furthest from the door.

"I found this place by accident," I explained as Derek and I took a seat by the window. I didn't care if he hadn't asked for an explanation, I was giving him one anyway. "I was driving home from school when…" I trailed off, remembering the sharp tightening in my chest that signaled a panic attack. It had been a few weeks after Gerard had nabbed me, a few days before we found Boyd and Erica wandering the streets dirty, tired, bloody, and half naked. I wasn't even sure what triggered it that time, but one minute I'm driving fine, the next I'm gasping for breath, pulling my jeep over. After I gained some control, I had wandered in here in hopes of laying low until I looked semi-normal.

Since then, I'd come into this place every single day, sat in the exact same spot, ordered the exact same thing, and generally kept to myself. I'd do my homework, talk to the waitress if she spoke to me, and spent two hours of the day sitting in this dusty, dingy place, listening to music that was popular before I was born.

"I like it here," I finished lamely, noticing the flicker of concern in Derek's eyes. It hadn't been _that_ long of a pause. Had it?

"Hey Stiles," the waitress greeted, moving towards us, an order book in her hand. Her hips bumped into tables and chairs as she maneuvered around them. "Can I get ya the usual?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I replied with a small smile.

"And for your friend?"

He plucked a menu from the holder sitting on the table, quickly glanced through it, and ordered a black coffee. The waitress's eyes lingered on him a few seconds longer than necessary before flicking back to her order book to write our orders down. "I'll be right back," she said and headed back towards the counter.

"She was checking you out," I felt obligated to say.

"Was she? I hadn't noticed," he replied glancing out the window. I snorted, shaking my head.

"So, where were you going?" I asked curiously, fiddling with the sugar bowl, looking for the brand I preferred.

"Errands," Derek stated still looking out the window. He had rested his hands on the table, one on top of the other, and leaned back in his chair.

"Like…?" Okay, I was being annoying, I know, but I couldn't very well become friends with him if I didn't try learning _something_ about him.

He sighed in frustration, let his eyes settle on mine, and said, "Seriously, why do you suddenly want to be friends?"

"I told you…"

"No, you…" he trailed off when the waitress reappeared. She set our coffees down, checked the clueless werewolf out again, and then moved away from the table towards the group of four in the back. "You gave me some lame ass answer," he whispered the moment she was gone.

"Look, I have my reasons. Just like you have your reasons to do what you do. Can't we leave it at that and just move on?" I hadn't meant to snap at him, but if he could get all pissy when I brought up his personal life then so could I.

"Fine," he relented, raising his hands.

"Thank you." I returned my attention to the sugar bowl. I knew I was being unfair to him. He didn't want to be here, with me, but _I _had dragged him here anyway. The least I could do was tell him why he was here. So, I sucked in a deep breath and calmly said, "I just needed someone to talk to." He opened his mouth only to close it when I continued, "Someone who isn't Scott or Lydia, and I can't exactly go to my dad since he's not aware of 'you know what.'

"Look," I pressed on, not waiting for him to tell me shut up, "sometimes I can go days without having one, but other times…"

"What?" I glanced up, noticing his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"I used to get these panic attacks after my mom died," I started glancing down at the sugar bowl again. I choose two of the pink packages, ripped them open, and dumped them into my coffee. "They lasted a few months, and my dad had to get me psychiatric help. Believe me, it's not exactly a cake walk when you're eight years old, but my doctor helped me get past them."

"What does this…?"

"They started coming back after the Kanima attacked me at the garage," I admitted softly, slowly stirring my coffee, listening to the spoon knock against the sides of my mug.

"Is that what happened the day you found this place?" he asked carefully and I nodded. "Maybe you should tell your father…"

"I know what's causing them, Derek. I don't need some doctor poking and prodding at me, asking me questions that I cannot answer, and otherwise making the situation twelve times worse."

"So, you came to me?"

"Believe me, you weren't my first choice," I muttered pulling my spoon from my mug. Several drops of coffee fell from the end, landing in small, dark puddles on the table before I set it down. "But I can't get Scott alone for more than a few seconds to tell him anything, Lydia doesn't know about them, and my dad can't help me. I just need…"

"Someone to talk to," he finished for me and I nodded. A pensive look crossed his face as he studied me. He then leaned forward and said, "So talk."

"What?" Okay, so I was a little surprised. I wasn't expecting him to readily agree. I figured there'd be an argument, some manipulation, maybe a concussion or two, and then he'd agree. This was something I wasn't used to, and I needed to take a few seconds to wrap my head around it.

One…

Two…

Okay, I'm done.

I placed my hands on the table, rested my chin on them, and softly said, "Has anything ever happened to you that made you wonder if it was worth it; fighting to live another day?"

I was expecting him to berate me about suicide or crap like that, which would be a waste of breath because I would never resort to anything that drastic, but he surprised me by quietly saying "A few times."

"Laura?" I said softly and he nodded.

"And my family," he murmured wrapping his hands around his coffee mug.

"So, we're in the same boat then," I stated softly, taking a drink of my coffee. I listened to the music, _Nirvana _belting out a song I did not know, searching for a change in subject. We were heading into uncharted territory, Derek and I, and I'd rather we became better friends before trekking down that path.

"So, those errands…?" I finally said and he looked up, furrowing his eyebrows.

He caught on fairly quickly, nodded, and said, "Yeah, errands."

"Groceries? Dry cleaning?"

"Yes and no," he stated with a small smile. "Erica ran out of…" he made a face and I nodded in understanding.

"She made you get them for her?" I snorted, shaking my head.

"Yeah, I…" guilt flashed across his eyes, and I felt my smile drop. He blamed himself for what happened to Erica and Boyd. It wasn't his fault they took off, it wasn't his fault the Argents nabbed them (okay, so they were nabbed because Gerard wanted _him_ dead, but it was hardly his fault), and it wasn't his fault the Alphas grabbed them either. I wanted to tell him all this so badly, but he wouldn't believe me.

"I remember one time my dad had to get some for my mom," I opted to say, hoping to break the tense silence. "He called like six times, complaining about all the brands and my mother wasn't helping much since she was laughing so hard." It was one of those memories that meant nothing to me then, but now was something I would never forget.

"Are you sure you aren't bothered by Scott and Isaac?" Derek asked suddenly, catching me by surprise. I looked up at him, raising my eyebrows, and realized he was doing exactly what I had done a few minutes ago.

I sighed and said, "Yes, I am sure."

"Because I can tell Isaac to stay away from Scott. I can even make it an order; he'd have to obey it."

As awesome as that sounded, and yes, I am aware I was being condescending, I declined Derek's offer with a shake of my head and a smile. "I'm not going to tell Scott who he can and cannot hang out with. If he wants two best friends…" the words felt dirty in my mouth, "…then he can have two best friends."

Derek nodded, and let the subject drop. We fell silent again, but this silence was less uncomfortable and less heavy. We weren't quite friends yet, but it was a start in the right direction.

* * *

**It's entirely up to you which songs they were listening to. I have my own ideas, but I'm gonna keep them to myself :P**

**Thanks for reading last chapter, and I am dedicating this to my four alerters, but it goes doubly for Lidil who took the time to review. I've decided to take your advice and ignore what Benny says :).**

**Drop a comment if you can, thanks for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter.**

**They still aren't mine.**


	3. Movie Night

**First off, HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

**Second, thank you so much for the reviews, alerts, and favs last chapter. You guys are awesome.**

**Third, fair warning, something may happen between Derek and Stiles in the next few chapters. But I'm not sure what exactly. I just thought I'd warn you.**

**And fourth, thanks for reading, I do not own Derek or Stiles, and leave me a comment if you can.**

**See ya!**

**P.S. Would you guys mind if I changed the POV to Derek's once in a while? You know, if I warned you ahead of time?**

* * *

For the next few days, Derek and I would meet in that dingy little coffee shop (and sometimes we'd even hang out _outside_ the coffee shop, too). We'd talk about nothing and everything, and a few times I'd even made him laugh (score three for Stilinski) so by the time Saturday rolled around I had finally succeeded in my plan. We were finally friends. The best part, Derek actually admitted we were friends.

Saturday night, I was lying horizontally across my bed, reading a book for English. It was some boring autobiography and I kept losing my focus, my eyes lingering to the window. My mind wandered to earlier that day, at the coffee shop, when I tripped over my feet getting up to go to the bathroom, spilling my coffee and scone onto the floor. It would have been completely mortifying, had Derek not laughed so hard that coffee came out his nose. That made up for it.

I returned my focus to the book, turning the page. I didn't even know who I was reading about, and I was about to just toss the book away and get some major video game time in, when my phone chimed from my pocket, startling me.

I closed my book, set it aside, and dug my phone from my pocket. I checked the screen, a small smile crossing my lips as I read the name. I opened the text message:

_It wasn't Stone Temple Pilots. It was Candlebox. I was right_**,** Derek had written and I could almost see the triumphant smile on his face.

_Well, it sounded like STP,_ I wrote back.

He sent me back: _You're just awful with music. Maybe you should stop listening to that Hip-hop crap you like so much._

_ Crap? Hip-hop isn't crap. You just don't understand great music._

_Yes, because listening to someone __talk__ about a female shaking her ass or having 'sexy' time is __great__ music._

I snorted, shaking my head, and wrote back: _Oh please, your music preferences aren't any better. I've seen the playlist on your MP3 player. Nickelback anyone?_

_Hey, we agreed never to speak of that._

I laughed, recalling Wednesday, when I found his MP3 player still hooked up to the little radio he kept at the train depot. Curiosity had gotten the better of me, and I scrolled through the bands he had on it. I was about halfway through when he caught me, but it was too late for me to un-see what I saw. Derek Hale, big, bad Alpha, liked Nickelback. And yes, I gave him crap for it.

_So, what are you doing, _I typed. I figured he was probably sitting in his car, most likely stalking one of his betas, trying to be inconspicuous. He was good, don't get me wrong, but I usually could spot him fairly easily. It probably didn't help that I was the only one really looking for him.

_Walking,_ he wrote back.

_Who are you stalking tonight_? I had meant it to be a joke, but I knew he wouldn't find it nearly as funny as I did. I waited for him to respond, to berate me for being a pain in the ass, but a response never came. For a split second, I actually thought he was mad at me, and I began typing out an apology, but I stopped halfway through when I heard a soft tapping at my window.

I sat up, my eyes resting on a familiar face. I narrowed my eyes slightly, tossed my phone to the side, and scrambled up to let him in. "So, you're stalking me now?"

"Not stalking. Merely visiting," Derek retorted sarcastically, clambering into my room through the window.

"And where is your pack?" I asked curiously, crossing my arms.

"Erica and Boyd are spending the night at their parents' places, Isaac is with…" he trailed off, an uncomfortable look crossing his face.

"Scott," I responded for him, nodding. I had already known that little tidbit and I chose not to dwell on it any longer than I had to.

"And Jackson is spending the night with Lydia."

"And you were lonely," I teased and he glared. "You were, weren't you?" I grinned when his scowl deepened. He turned towards the window, but I grabbed his arm and said, "I'm just messing with you, Derek. Don't be such a Sourwolf.

"Look," I continued, letting his arm go, gesturing around my room, "I wasn't doing anything important. We could watch a movie or something."

"What about that?" he pointed at the book I had been reading.

"It's a bullshit project for English. I can fake it," I replied flicking the book off my bed. "Come on bestie," he glared at that but I ignored him, "let's watch a movie."

He sighed but asked, "What movie?"

"Something that doesn't involve ghosts or werewolves or vampires or Kanimas or anything remotely supernatural," I stated ticking each creature off on my fingers.

"So, what does that leave?" Derek gave me a questioning look.

"Oh, I know the perfect movie," I said with a smile.

**TW**

"I can't believe you've never seen this movie," I said as I carried a bowl of popcorn and two sodas into the living room. Derek followed me, holding a pizza box.

"I don't spend a lot of time watching movies," he replied placing the pizza on my coffee table. I set the popcorn and sodas next to the box and we both settled on the floor, our shoulders barely touching, our backs against the couch.

"But it came out in 2001," I exclaimed exasperated.

"I like books okay," he retorted opening the pizza box.

"Nerd," I muttered and he lightly punched me. "You _do_ know you are a freaking werewolf, right? Even your light punches hurt," I stated rubbing my shoulder. And it did, but I knew if he hit me harder I'd have been lucky to keep my arm, so I didn't complain too much about it.

"What is this movie about?" he asked, opting to ignore my comment.

"Watch it and see," I replied evasively, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. I hit play on the paused movie, grabbed a slice of pizza, and brought my knees up to my chest as I began watching the television.

**TW**

Derek was quiet throughout the film, his eyes glued to the screen. A few times his eyebrows furrowed, and I was certain he was going to ask me a question, but I figured he was saving his questions until the end of the movie.

Sure enough, the moment it ended, he turned to me and asked, "Okay, how did those thugs not hear Bruiser talking to Danny? And how exactly did they get the money out of the vault?"

"Those, my wolfie friend, are just a few of the mysteries of The Ocean's movies," I replied with a grin. "Besides, do you _know_ how many continuity errors are in that movie? And factual errors? Plus, if you really pay attention, you can kinda see the crew members in a few of the scenes. This entire movie was one, big ass mistake, but it was good enough to stem two sequels out of it."

"Wait, there are two more of these movies?" Derek asked in an incredulous voice.

"Yep," I answered, popping my 'p,' nodding my head. "Now, we could either watch the other two or I can bust out my Doctor Who DVDs.

"Who?" Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on, you _cannot_ tell me you have never seen Doctor Who."

"I don't exactly watch a lot of television," he replied softly, taking a drink of his soda.

"Oh, we are totally watching Doctor Who," I exclaimed and sprang to my feet. "But we can only watch the Tennant seasons because he's the only Doctor I like and those are the only DVDs I have. I've heard good things about Smith, but I haven't exactly sat down and watched the newer seasons yet, and Eccleston wasn't The Doctor long enough for me to form an opinion. And I wasn't exactly alive to see the rest of The Doctors, but I _have _heard good things about Tom Baker…"

"Stiles," Derek said, cutting me off, looking up at me with an amused look on his face. "Just go get the damn movies."

"I can do that," I stated and rushed out of the room. It wasn't every day that I met a Doctor Who virgin. As I searched for my movies, I wondered just how many other things I could expose Derek to tonight.

**TW**

We were halfway through the Donna Noble episodes when Derek fell asleep, slumped against me, his breath warm against my neck. I thought it'd be uncomfortable, having the hulking Sourwolf sleeping against me, but I actually didn't mind. It was kinda nice actually.

Being careful not to move too much, I finished watching the episode we were currently on, but right before the next episode could start, I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake, my dad's voice saying, "Hey, kiddo, would't you be more comfortable upstairs?"

I stirred awake, very much aware of the lack of weight against me. Sometime, between me falling asleep and my father returning home, Derek had awoken and headed out. Though, he did clean up the pizza box, the soda cans, and the popcorn bowl. I must have been really out of it to miss that.

"What time is it?" I asked stretching, making a face. It felt like I had cotton in my mouth. _That_ is what I got for not brushing my teeth before falling asleep.

"Almost five," my dad replied helping me to my feet. "Have you been down here all night?"

"Yeah," I responded rubbing sleep from my eyes. "I was just watching Doctor Who."

"Martha Jones?" my dad asked curiously, helping me towards the stairs.

"Nah, Donna Noble," I murmured stumbling over my feet as I walked up the steps.

"You always did have a thing for the red heads," my father stated absentmindedly, and I heard a chuckle in his voice.

"I don't know Dad," I stated as we stepped over my room's threshold. I fell onto my bed, half asleep, and muttered, "I don't mind dark hair all that much."

"Good night, Stiles."

"Night dad," I whispered turning to face my window, catching a glimpse of a pair of red eyes. They blinked once and were gone, but I couldn't help falling asleep with a smile on my face.


	4. Stiles' Lie

**A big thanks to Anna and Tleighblack for reviewing last chapter and Lord Yuyu, Lidil, and The Obfuscator's Canard for reviewing the chapter beforehand. Thanks guys for making me want to keep writing this. A part of me keeps fighting this story, but I am just ignoring the crap out of it and writing it anyway.**

**Anyway, I do not own these characters, thanks a bunch for reading, and drop me a comment if you can.**

**See ya!**

* * *

I was sitting in Harris' class. He was going on and on about Covalent Bonds or Nucleuses… Nuclei? Which is it again? I'll look it up later. Back on point, I was sitting in Harris' class, staring out the window, listening to the bespectacled man who hated me, when my mind began to wander.

It does this occasionally, okay maybe more than occasionally, and usually when I'm bored to near tears. I mean, come on, let's face it, Harris is by far the most boring teacher ever. And that's saying something since my math teacher is like five billion years old and uses the same monotone even when he's excited. I can just picture him during sex… On second thought, I never, ever want to picture him doing anything with his body. Bleh!

So, where was I before I grossed myself out? Oh yes, my mind had wandered. I started thinking about lacrosse practice the other day. I was getting better, Finstock hadn't yelled at me _nearly_ as much as he usually did (though Greenberg was going to be having another terrible season), and I had a feeling I'd be starting soon… maybe. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

Crossed made me remember that I had to go grocery shopping (I have no idea why, it just did) and I started making a mental note of stuff Dad and I would need. We were out of juice and bread (crossed buns? Maybe that's why) and chips. Oh, and I had to remember to pick up some more healthy stuff. Dad had been sneaking fast food again; I found the wrappers in the trash. I'd force vegetables down his throat if I had to. I wasn't going to lose him like I lost Mom.

This made me think about my mother. The anniversary of her death was coming up in a couple of weeks. The past few years, Dad hadn't been home on the night of Mom's death. He had been busy at the station, and I'd usually sat around by myself, trying not to think about her, while watching re-runs of her favorite shows. Maybe this year I'd invite Derek over.

And then my mind settled on the dark haired wolf. I wondered what he was doing right now. I figured he was either stalking someone, brooding, or reading_ while _broody. We had hung out yesterday, and he had been struggling through the Harry Potter novels. They weren't hard to read, per se, he just didn't find them nearly as appealing as I did, but I had asked him to read them, and he had relented, albeit a little reluctantly.

I was going to see him again after school, at the coffee shop. I made plans to grill him about the book; wanting to make sure he was actually reading them and not looking up the details on Spark Notes or something. Though, he didn't spend a lot of time online, and a part of me wasn't even sure he knew much about computers. Funny, seeing as he was born in 1989 and probably should have learned sometime during the thirteen years he spent in school.

"Mr. Stilinski, if you wanted to daydream all day, I would have suggested you head over to the grade school," a sneering voice broke into my thoughts, knocking me back to reality, my smile slipping from my face.

"What?" I looked around, noticing the entire class looking at me. Scott was throwing me a concerned look, but I was more preoccupied with Harris glaring at me. "Did you say something?" I was snarky by nature… sue me.

"Mr. Stilinski perhaps you'd like to listen to me after school, in detention," Harris said slowly, eyeing me with a demented glint in his demented little eyes. And, was he… was he smirking? Why yes. Yes he was. What a dick.

"You can't just hand out detentions all willy-nilly. I didn't even _do _anything," I snapped forcing myself to stay in my seat.

"Would you like two?"

I opened my mouth to say something else, but Scott drew his foot back and kicked me, shutting me up. I opted to throw Harris a dirty look, but otherwise stayed silent. I was, most likely, going to have a bruise where Scott kicked me, but I didn't care. I was too busy picturing Derek ripping Harris' head off. That would be something I'd pay to see.

After the bell rang, dismissing us from Satan's class, Scott and I headed down the hallway. As he talked about something, maybe about Isaac or Allison (someone), I was busy fiddling with my phone.

_Can we meet at four-thirty instead of three-thirty? _ I typed and hit send.

"…and the fact that he gave it to you just goes to show…" Scott kept babbling and I nodded. It was the first time, in a while, our roles had been reversed. Usually he's the one who's preoccupied with his phone or whatever the hell went on in his perverted little mind while I spent the majority of the time attempting to discuss wolfie matters… or level eighteen in Halo.

My phone chimed in my hand, catching my attention, cutting Scott off. I opened the text message and read: _Harris?_

_Who else,_ I wrote back.

"Who are you talking to?" Scott asked, trying to see the screen.

"Nobody," I answered putting my phone back in my pocket. "So, what were you…?" My phone chimed again, interrupting me. I pulled it from my pocket, opening the new message. _You want me to rip his head off? I could do it._

I snorted, shaking my head. We were on the same page, but I had to decline his offer. I couldn't turn him into a fugitive again. _As awesome as that sounds, I'm gonna have to pass._

"Seriously, who are you talking to? Have you… have you met someone?" Scott waggled his eyebrows, his perverted mind filling in blanks that did not need to be filled in. Why was it always about sex with him? I mean, I get it, we're guys, and usually we thought about it a lot, but he was just more sexually charged than any other guy I'd ever known. Maybe it was a wolf thing.

I typed into my phone: _Are wolves usually amped up on sex juices or something?_ I very nearly hit send, but I thought better of it. That was a question I could research on my own.

"No," I finally answered Scott. By the look on his face, I had taken _way_ too long to say anything, and he didn't believe me. Which was a crock of shit, I _was not_ seeing anyone; unless you counted Derek, but we were friends; nothing more.

"Alright," Scott said slowly, still skeptical, "if you say so."

"I do," I responded testily, just as my phone chimed. Instead of checking the message, I gestured behind me and said, "I've got Spanish, so…"

"Just tell me if she's pretty," he said quickly, but I just rolled my eyes and walked away from him.

"Good bye, Scott," I called back and maneuvered my way through the crowd. Once I was away from him, I opened the new text message: _If you're sure. See you at four-thirty._

I typed back: _I'm not against you keying his car or egging his house. Maybe chasing his car down, flashing some red eyes. Just to scare the holy hell out of…_

I ran into someone, dropping my phone and my books onto the floor. "Crap," I muttered hating whoever I ran into despite the fact that it was actually _my_ fault.

"I'm sorry," Danny said softly, as we both stooped down to get our crap. "I didn't see you."

"That's okay," I replied, no longer angry. Danny wasn't a hard guy to get along with, everyone liked him, and it _was_ my fault. "It's my fault. It's not exactly safe to text in the hallway."

"No," he stated with a smile. "Who were you texting anyway?"

"A friend of mine," I responded collecting my phone. I closed out of the message, shoving it in my pocket. He handed me my books, I accepted them, and muttered, "Thanks."

"You know, I don't see why you won't tell Scott about _him_. I'm sure he'd understand," Danny said as we got to our feet.

"What?" The bell rang, cutting off whatever Danny was about to say, and he merely smiled and walked away. "What does that mean?!" I called after him, but he merely waved and disappeared into a crowd of kids. Well, that was just weird.

**TW**

I was still thinking about what Danny said long after Harris' detention. I was driving towards the coffee shop, my hands tightening around the steering wheel. What did that mean? I could tell Scott about _him._ There was no _her_ let alone a _him._ Besides, how did Danny even know I was talking to a _him?_ I was fairly certain he hadn't seen my phone.

Regardless, I wasn't hiding anything from Scott. So what if Derek and I were friends. It wasn't Scott's business, nor did I _have_ to tell him everything about my life. If he can have Isaac and Allison, in addition to me, then why couldn't I have someone, too? Was that too much to ask?

Of course, Danny hadn't said it like I was hiding a friendship from Scott. He made it sound like I was hiding a _relationship _from him; which was completely stupid. Derek and I were _not_ a couple. I wasn't even sure he _rolled_ that way. I mean, he went with Allison's aunt at one point, meaning he was a little straight.

Granted, if some psychotic bitch burnt my house down I'd swear off women for a while, but that's just me. Besides, I already suspected I was a little _bicurious_ to begin with, so it would be in the realm of possibility for me. Derek… I wasn't so sure.

Don't get me wrong, I'd be lying if I said hadn't thought about it once or twice, but I thought about the same stuff with Lydia. It was just a part of my personality, crushing on people I didn't have a chance with. Though, where Derek was concerned, I didn't exactly have to worry about him hooking up with some random hussy. He was borderline asexual… or that's what I suspected. I could have been wrong. It was rare, but it _does_ happen.

I shook my head. I was putting _way_ too much thought into an offhanded comment made by Danny. I _liked_ where Derek and I were at right now. He was a great friend, actually listened to me, and offered up his opinion when I needed it (and after I wheedled it out of him). That was more than Scott had to offer recently.

Besides, I didn't want to mess it up by letting my mind get away from me. I needed him. Since I started talking to him, actually talking and not that crappy small talk shit, I hadn't been suffering from any more panic attacks. I have actually been sleeping better, too. And Derek had lightened up a little; he wasn't so _broody _and_ pensive_ anymore. I'd also seen him smile more. Being friends was helping both of us. And I _liked_ being friends. Really I did.

Oh, the lies we tell ourselves.


	5. Locker Room Talk with Danny

**Hey guys! How's things?**

**This is my _almost_ chapter. You'll have to read and see why :)**

**Anyway, a huge thanks to Ink-Reader-18, random-nasha, and Tleighblack for their reviews last chapter (I apologize if I misspelled your penname's wrong).**

**So, thanks for reading, I still do not own these characters, and I'll catch ya in the next chapter.**

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**Bye!**

* * *

I probably shouldn't have done it. Okay there's _no _probably about it, I _know_ I shouldn't have done it, but his words were still bothering the hell out of me. Usually, I tend to ignore my problems, sweep them under the rug, and just hope they go away, but this was one thing I just couldn't ignore no matter how hard I tried.

So, Thursday afternoon, two days after Danny's cryptic, but not so cryptic, words, I found myself dragging my fellow lacrosse player into the boys' locker room, ignoring his protests, wondering, not for the first time, why we seemed to always end up in the BO infested stink hole.

"Okay, Stiles are you going to tell me…" Danny started the moment I let him go.

"Shush," I snapped searching for any stragglers.

"It's just, I have history and…"

"What the hell did you mean?" I asked, whirling around to stare at him, cutting his words off.

"What?" He was either taken aback by my question, or by the forcefulness of my voice. Honestly, I couldn't tell, but I was kinda hoping for the latter.

"I don't…" he trailed off, eyebrows furrowed for a second, but finally realization dawned on him. "Was this about the other day?"

"There is no _him_," I stated, pacing back and forth. "There is nobody. I was seriously just talking to a friend of mine. What is it with this fricking school and assuming you're dating someone when you are just their fricking friend? Huh, Danny, can ya answer that question?" My voice may or may not have gone up several octaves. Though, I'd never admit it if it did; at least not unless I was subjected to extreme torture. I'm talking vicious torture; Glee level torture.

"So, this _is_ about the other day?" he asked slowly, and I stopped, turning to face him, flashing him a 'duh' look. "Okay, just clarifying," Danny said holding up his hands. "Hey, look, I'm sorry if what I said upset you. I was just assuming you were hiding whatever _that_," he gestured vaguely, "is from Scott."

"Well, I'm not," I said softly, slowly my steps. "There is nothing to hide, okay?"

"But you want there to be," Danny stated gently.

"No," I responded quickly, a skeptical look crossing his face. "No, I don't," I insisted and he raised an eyebrow. "Stop looking at me like that." My face _was_ not burning red nor was I wishing a hole would appear under my feet and swallow me up.

"What's his name?" Danny asked curiously.

"How do you _know_ it's a him?" I was being petulant, I realize this, but I didn't care. "It could _easily_ be a girl."

"Come on, Stiles. The only girl you've ever had a thing for was Lydia Martin and even then it was more lust than love," Danny stated calmly, watching me closely. "I've known you since the sixth grade; I've seen some of the looks you've thrown me…"

"What…?" I started to protest.

"…and other guys," he pressed on, cutting my words off. "And I was there when you had Derek parading around…" his eyes widened. "It's not…?"

"What? No." Oh, too fast Stiles; that was way too fast. I would have been better off plastering a neon sign to my head saying, 'I think I have a massive crush on my Sourwolf buddy. Please point and laugh at me.'

"Oh my God, it is isn't it?" I wasn't aware someone could look so happy yet so disappointed at the same time, but Danny managed to pull it off. "When did that happen? I mean, I didn't mean for that to sound so…"

"It didn't because _nothing's_ happened," I insisted moving away from Danny, heading towards a nearby locker. As I fiddled with the lock, I said, "We're friends, okay. We've been hanging out recently since Scott's been, you know, all buddy-buddy with Isaac and…"

"...hanging around Allison?" Danny supplied softly, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice. I wondered what that was about, but I had a feeling Danny wouldn't tell me anyway, so I filed it away for later.

"Yeah," I stated softly, moving away from the locker and taking a seat on the bench. "I needed a friend, and Derek has been that friend."

"Does he know you like him?" Danny asked taking a seat next to me.

What was the point in denying it anymore? Danny would see right through my lies anyway. I wasn't sure if it was because he was gay or just because he paid attention, but Danny was far more perceptive than most of the guys I knew; including my Sourwolf friend. Though, Derek _could_ give Danny a run for his money on a good day.

So, I glanced over at Danny and said, "No, he doesn't know, and he's not ever going to know either."

"Are you afraid he's not into you that way?" I nodded, keeping my eyes on the floor. "Okay, but how are you ever going to know unless you tell him?"

"He's had a girlfriend before…"

"So have you… or, well, you went with Kat Olsen in the seventh grade for like three days. And, remember, before I came out freshmen year, I was dating Jill Shelby."

"Yes, but even back then you _knew _you were gay, and I'm fairly certain I'm only half…" Danny snorted, shaking his head. "I'm just saying, why mess up something that is really great on a long shot?"

"It's not really a long shot if you don't, at least, try." I knew Danny was right, but I didn't want to admit it; at least not yet. He must have sensed that, because he glanced over his shoulder, looking for any eavesdroppers, turned back to me, and quietly said, "Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Sure," I replied nodding. Who was I going to tell? Besides Derek and Scott (but mostly Derek), and even then it'd be under extreme torture; see above for an example.

"I'm kind of in the same predicament as you. Except, the guy I like, I know he's not gay."

"Who is it?" I asked quietly. An uncomfortable look crossed his face and I blurted out, "It's not Jackson is it?"

"God no," Danny responded exasperated. "I told him several times he's not my type. Though, sometimes I do wonder about him. He did make this comment once about being everyone's type."

"I'm sure Lydia would appreciate that," I stated drily. If I'm correct, Jackson most likely made that comment during his Kanima days. Back when he was a bit more of douche than he usually is, and more than likely willing to rip someone's face off; especially when he was in his creepy, lizard form. An involuntary shiver rolled down my spine at the thought of the Kanima. Note to self: Never help fight another Lizard Person ever again.

"Do you promise not to laugh if I tell you?" Danny asked quietly, looking away from me.

"Danny, I just admitted I have a massive crush on Derek Hale. I'm sure whoever you tell me won't shock me at…"

"Scott," he muttered catching me by surprise. See, I'm wrong sometimes. Though, his offhanded comment about Allison made sense now. He was jealous. I now felt bad for him. I still had a chance to be rejected by Derek; Danny wasn't ever going to have that.

"Sorry buddy," I said softly, clamping him on the shoulder.

"It's okay," he replied quietly. "I'm used to it by now."

We sat in silence for a while, neither looking at each other, but I never really could sit quietly for very long, so I ended up asking, "Seriously, am I attractive to gay guys?"

Danny snorted, shaking his head. He then stood up, looked down at me, and said, "I'll tell you what. You tell Derek how you feel and I'll answer your question." He turned, moving towards the locker room door.

"How will you know if I do?" I called after him.

"Trust me," he started, glancing over his shoulder, a small smile on his face, "I'll know. Oh, and if you ever want to talk again, please choose somewhere else. This place stinks." He then opened the door and walked out.

**TW**

"Just tell Derek how I feel," I muttered as I looked in the bathroom mirror. "Just tell him how I feel." That was easier said than done. I had only ever tried to confess my feelings to one other person, and Lydia hadn't quite grasped what I was saying. I even had an entire speech…

No, I couldn't use the same speech I used with Lydia. It was her speech, I wrote it specifically for her. Besides, I couldn't even remember most of it, but I knew it had something to do with two unlikely people coming together or two people you wouldn't expect or something like that. What was the point of going through something so many fricking times if I was just going to forget it the moment I said it?

Frustrated, I turned away from the mirror, away from my failure. Danny was wrong, I did not_ have_ to tell Derek how I felt. We were fine as friends, I liked being friends with him.

_Bullshit_, I told myself. _Grow a flipping pair, call his ass up, and tell him you two need to talk._ My inner voice is such an asshole.

With a sigh, I walked back into my room and grabbed my phone. My fingers hesitated over Derek's name, and I very nearly put my phone down, but I forced myself to hit send. I had to do this; my inner voice told me to.

"_Stiles? It's two o'clock in the morning,_" Derek answered on the third ring, sounding groggy. Clearly, I had just woken him up. Weird, usually he's out Batmaning up the night with his wolf powers. Okay, more like Wolfmaning up the night. Whatever, I just didn't picture him going to bed until, at least, four o'clock, and getting like two hours of sleep before beginning another day of brooding and pensiveness. Yeah, I've put too much thought into that. I need a hobby.

"Sorry for waking you," I said feeling embarrassed. Regardless of how late I assumed he stayed up, I should have taken into account that it _was_ two in the morning, and usually normal people (or werewolves) were asleep during that time of night.

_"It's okay, what's up_?"

"Don't worry about it," I stated after a brief pause. "It can wait."

_"Okay_," he responded, a little concerned. "_If you're sure_."

"I'm sure," I replied softly. "Good night, bestie,"

_"You're annoying_," he muttered, but still said, _"Night_." He then hung up.

I copied him, very much aware of my inner voice growling, _Pussy._

* * *

**My head-canon is Danny has a massive crush on Scott, but it's only one-sided. Scott's too hung up on Allison to ever see it.**

**Oh, and I have a very weird obsession with this story. It's fun writing for Stiles.**

**See ya!**


	6. Unexpected Reactions

**A huge thanks to Tleighblack and random-nasha for their reviews. And thanks to anyone else who may have alerted or favorited last chapter.**

**Thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you can, and I still don't own these characters.**

**See ya!**

* * *

"I think I'm avoiding Derek." Okay, I _know_ I was avoiding him, but no one else needed to know that little tid-bit.

"What?" Danny whispered, glancing over his shoulder. "Are you even in this study hall?" he asked curiously.

"No, I have a free period," I answered leaning forward. "But that's beside the point. I think I'm avoiding him."

"Think or know?" he questioned giving me a _knowing_ look.

"Again beside the point," I retorted leaning back in my seat. "He's called like seventeen times since Thursday, left me about thirty text messages." You'd think he'd get the hint and realize I was avoiding him.

"Are you sure he doesn't like you like that," Danny asked softly, returning his attention to his chemistry homework. "I mean, that's an awful lot of phone calls to make for someone who is _just_ a friend."

"He's a worrier," I replied quietly, biting my thumb nail. "Should I call him back?"

"Yes, you should definitely call him back."

"But…"

Danny turned in his seat, so he could look at me properly, and said, "Call him back."

"Call who back?" a voice said above us. Together, Danny and I looked up to see Lydia looking down at us. It explained the stuff I had kicked out of the way when I sat down. A part of me thought I should have recognized it was her stuff.

"No one," Danny and I said together, both sharing a quick glance. I cleared my throat, getting to my feet. "I should get going." I hooked my thumb over my shoulder, and Danny nodded. "Gotta get to class… or something; we'll talk later."

I ran into the door as I backed out of the classroom, causing every single pair of eyes to settle on me. Our English teacher, who was in charge of study hall today, gave me a questioning look, and embarrassed, I muttered an apology as I hurriedly left the room. As plans go, that wasn't exactly my best.

I lingered outside the rest of the hour, rocking back and forth on my heels, just waiting for the bell to ring. I texted Danny twice, letting him know where to meet me, and received two affirmative texts in return; though the second one sounded a little irritated. Well, sorry I'm having a crisis, and the only other person I could go to for help is the one I am avoiding.

The moment the bell rang, signaling lunch, Danny wandered outside followed by, with stomach sinking horror, Lydia. The moment she was within hearing distance of me she practically shouted, "You're in love with Derek Hale!"

Several people looked her way as they passed her, and I would have killed her had she _not_ been Lydia Martin. I _was _going to kill Danny though. "You told her," I hissed dragging the two away from the front doors and towards the side of the building.

"She dragged it out of me," Danny replied sheepishly.

"I hate you," I grumbled shaking my head.

"Seriously, you're in love with Derek?" Lydia asked again, impatiently. She hated being ignored. "I always thought you had a thing for Danny."

"What?' Danny and I said together, and Lydia shrugged.

"Isn't that what that speech was about? Two people whose union would surprise everyone? I mean, you two are such polar opposites…" she shook her head. "But Derek? Really?" She squinted at me, almost as if she were picturing us together. "I can see it. Yes, you two would be cute together. You need love, Stiles."

"First off, we are so not done with the Danny and me stuff."

"I second that," Danny sniffed giving Lydia a steady look.

"And second, I _like_ Derek. I'm not _in love_ with him." Or I didn't think I was. No, I wasn't. I definitely wasn't. I just liked him a lot. And I couldn't stop thinking about him. In fact, it looked as if he were parking his car…

"Holy crap," I muttered yanking Lydia and Danny into the shadows. I had no idea why I was even bothering, he most definitely smelt me. Maybe I was banking on the fact that we were at the high school, it was full of kids, and he would struggle to find me.

"What's wrong?" Lydia peeked over my shoulder, her green eyes widening. "It looks like he's tracking you down now."

"He could be looking for Scott or Jackson or one of his other…" I glanced at Danny, and Lydia followed my gaze, getting the point.

"No, I think he's looking for you," she insisted nodding.

"Yeah," Danny agreed, though he was flashing both me and Lydia a confused look. "You have been avoiding him since Thursday, and since you won't answer his calls…"

"How many calls?" Lydia asked glancing over at Danny.

"Over a dozen," he replied and she made an 'ah' sound.

"Hey, I am right here," I protested waving my hands. "I can hear everything you are saying."

"Go talk to him," Danny and Lydia said together, ignoring me.

"What? No."

"Yes," they retorted and Danny nudged me away from them, towards Derek.

"I'm not ready," I said holding my ground.

"Grow a pair," they snapped, along with my inner voice, and succeeded in pushing me out in the open. I tripped over my feet; nearly face planted, but grabbed a nearby picnic table to keep myself standing.

"I hate you two," I snapped but took a deep breath and started towards Derek's Camaro. He hadn't gotten out, I was very much aware of this, and I wondered if he had been listening to Danny, Lydia, and me. He _was_ a creepy, eavesdropping creeper after all.

The window rolled down as I stepped up to the side of the car. I leaned down, met his green eyes, and said, "Hey, buddy, what's up?"

"Get in," he simply replied and rolled the window back up. So, he wasn't in an arguing mood? Man, and I was just chopped full of witty reasons to _not_ get in the car.

With a sigh, I opened the door and slid into the Camaro. It smelled like him: leather and manly, woody musk. He didn't wear cologne, something I appreciated. There's just something about a guy who…

Back on topic, Stiles; jeez, you're starting to sound like a sixteen year old girl. Think manly things: baseball, wrestling, Derek with his shirt off… Forget it.

"What's up?" I repeated giving him my full attention. I was willing my heart to beat normal, steady beats. I had a feeling I was about to really get my lying on (something I wasn't good at to begin with) and it'd be a lot easier if he wasn't asking me why I was lying. Which he was going to; I could tell, but I wanted to pretend he wasn't going to; even for a little while.

"Are you avoiding me?" Ah, yes, the one question I probably should have seen coming because it was exactly what I had been doing, and he wasn't stupid.

"I've been busy," I answered slowly, but the look on his face told me he heard my heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth to call me out on my lie, but I hurriedly continued, "But hey, tonight, come over. We'll watch movies, I'll order Italian…"

"You mean a pizza?" he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile. He wasn't letting the questioning go, not by a long shot, but he also knew I didn't want to talk about it. My Sourwolf was so smart.

Did I just say that? I need help.

"Oh come on, you _like_ pizza as much as I do," I said quickly. "Besides, you only watched the Donna Noble episodes of Doctor Who. There's still Martha Jones and Rose Tyler."

"How many companions did this guy have?"

"Well, there have been eleven doctors so far, and each one probably had _at_ least _one_, so at the very least there are eleven. But there was also the ones, like 10, who had more than one… so, a lot," I finished lamely, shrugging my shoulders.

"Are you sure you want me to come over?" he asked curiously, eyeing me cautiously.

_God yes_, I thought-I did miss him, and I hated myself for avoiding him like a fricking child-but I merely nodded. He must have heard the truth in my heart beats because he nodded back and said, "I'll see you tonight." As I reached for the door handle, he tossed a book in my lap. "I finished it last night. You said there were seven, right?" I grinned, picking the book up.

"Did you like it?" I asked curiously.

"See you tonight," he repeated, but I saw the smile on his face.

"I told you, you would," I stated lightly punching his shoulder. His big, bulky, muscly shoulder that I just wanted to…

Oh my God, I had to get out of his car. I gave him a quick wave, very much aware of the confused look on his face, and I scrambled out of the car. "S-see you later," I said shutting the door. Leaving him to his confusion, I stalked across the grass towards Danny and Lydia, both still standing where I left them, giving me expectant looks.

"He didn't do it," Lydia said the moment I was in hearing distance.

"Definitely didn't do it," Danny agreed nodding.

I waited until Derek took off before I rounded on the two and said, "You are coming over tonight whether you like it or not."

"Is Derek going to be there?" Lydia teased, grinning, and Danny snorted. I merely growled, threw my hands in the air, and stalked away from them. I didn't need this; I was hungry and it was lunchtime.

"Stiles wait," Danny called and they caught up to me. "We'll come over if you need us there."

"Yeah, we'll be your moral support. I can even bring Jackson…"

"No," I exclaimed rounding on both of them again, very much aware of the stares I was getting. I glanced around, lowering my voice, "No one can know. At least not yet. I am trusting you two," I started, mostly for Danny's benefit-and he did look apologetic at least, "to keep this a secret. If I'm rejected, I'd rather it be kept quiet."

"Wait, so you're doing it tonight?" Danny asked curiously, quirking an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I admitted and turned to walk away from them.

"Should we come over early?" Lydia questioned keeping pace with me.

"Yeah, we can help you pick something to wear," Danny stated falling into step next to me. "I mean, you _do_ own something other than plaid and hoodies, right?"

"This is going to be a disaster," I muttered hanging my head. I would have been better off asking Boyd and Erica to be my 'moral support.' At least they have spent more than a few minutes around Derek and wouldn't feel the need to dress me.

**TW**

You'd think I'd never had Derek over, with how nervous I was. I slowly paced back and forth across my bedroom floor, tuning out Danny and Lydia as they argued over my wardrobe.

What happened if Derek did reject me and we weren't friends anymore? It'd hurt, sure, if he told me he didn't like me that way, but I could deal with that, and I would probably continue to like him from afar; just as I had with Lydia. I just didn't want to lose him as a friend. He had managed to become one of my best friends over the past few weeks, and I don't know what I'd do without him in my life… no matter our relationship status.

Of course, there was a chance he didn't reject me, and we ended up breaking up. I'd still lose him as a friend, and even if we managed to stay in touch, it could very well be weird between us to the point where we didn't hang out anymore.

"This was a bad idea," I muttered dropping heavily onto my bed.

"You're just over thinking everything," Lydia replied holding up a green shirt, studying it closely. "You need to take a deep breath, let it out, and count to ten. Try it in Latin. That usually works for me."

"I don't even _know_ Latin," I grumbled burying my face in my hands.

"Stiles," she said sitting next to me, "you'll be fine. And if he rejects you, well…" she leaned in so only I could hear her, "…Deaton has been teaching me some simple spells. I can make him believe his balls are falling off." I looked up, raising my eyebrows, giving her a look of awe. "I'm scary, I know," she said with a smile, putting an arm around me.

Had this been a year ago, I would have literally died if she had done this, but now I just took the comfort and allowed her to return to raiding my closet.

After a few more minutes of raiding, Lydia and Danny shared a look and said, "Red hoodie."

"I thought you said I shouldn't wear a hoodie," I stated looking between the two.

"You're a lost cause where fashion is concerned," Lydia retorted with a sigh. "Best to just let you wear what you pull off."

"Red hoodie," Danny responded tossing it at me.

"Red hoodie it is," I muttered pulling it on. At least they were done trying to dress me like some life-sized Ken doll. I was just zipping it up when someone knocked on the door.

"Okay, he's here," I said a little surprised he hadn't just climbed in through the window. I figured he saw Danny's car, Lydia caught a ride with him, and decided to do the 'human' thing and use the door. "How do I look?" I held my arms out, turning in a circle.

"It'll do," Danny and Lydia said together, I scoffed, and we all headed down the stairs. As they headed into the living room, silently arguing over the ending of some reality television show, I moved towards the door.

I opened it, gave Derek a smile, and asked, "You're using the door? What's the occasion?" He glared at me, I grinned, and then stepped aside to let him in. "Did you at least bring something?"

"I brought gum," he retorted drily. I merely stuck my tongue out at him and closed the door.

"So, I invited Danny and Lydia over, too," I said vaguely, leading Derek into the living room. I wasn't going to try and come up with a lie, he'd know. Sometimes it sucked surrounding myself with werewolves.

"Miguel," Danny greeted jokingly, from the recliner, grinning at Derek's glare.

"Hey Derek," Lydia said waving, curled up in the easy chair. He nodded back, eyeing her cautiously. They hadn't exactly talked much since, you know, Peter possessed Lydia and forced her to kidnap Derek and resurrect him. I knew Derek wasn't mad at Lydia, but he probably didn't fully trust her, either. In time I had a feeling he'd like her just as much as he liked everyone else; baby steps.

"So, what are we watching?" Lydia asked deciding to ignore Derek's distrust towards her.

"We talked about watching Doctor…"

"No," Lydia interrupted springing to her feet. "No, I'm not watching a Sci-Fi show." The fact that she knew what Doctor Who was made me wonder just how much of a closet nerd she was. "Please," she said scoffing, obviously reading the awe on my face, "my sister is into that stuff." She headed into the kitchen, returning a second later carrying her purse. "I know I put it in here," she stated digging around inside.

"See, this is why being a guy is awesome," I stated taking a seat on the couch. "We just have wallets; small, compact wallets that fit the basics. We don't feel the need to carry everything we own around with us."

"I've seen your wallet, Stilinski," Lydia said without looking up from her hunting. "You'd be lucky to find the 'basics.'"

"Ha ha," I retorted drily, ignoring the amused looks Danny and Derek threw me.

"Ah-ha," Lydia exclaimed pulling a movie from her bag.

"No," I complained shaking my head.

"Hey, I haven't seen that movie in years," Danny stated, his eyes lighting up.

"What's it about?" Derek asked making a face at the cover.

"Oh, you poor, nerdy bookworm," I said softly, shaking my head again. "You do not want to be subjected to this movie. You will never be the same again."

"You've never seen this movie?" Lydia asked raising one, perfect eyebrow, eyeing him curiously.

"He's reads," I answered for him, ignoring the glare he threw me. "He's a giant bookworm who doesn't own a television. Right Der?" I turned, grinning at him.

"I like books," he stated softly, lightly pushing my head away from him. He could have been more forceful, I knew the guy well, but it was hardly a love tap. I didn't even feel any pain. I had a feeling he was holding back for some reason.

Lydia and Danny shared a quick smile before Lydia looked back at Derek and said, "Well, it is based on a book."

"A terrible book," I pointed out, just for good measure.

"Put it in," Danny said getting to his feet. He grabbed the DVD from Lydia, dodged my attempts to grab it, and moved towards my DVD player. "I still say she should have picked Lon," he commented as he brought the machine to life.

"Uh, _no,_ Allie and Noah belonged together," Lydia retorted letting her bag fall to the floor as she sat back down in the easy chair.

"But Lon was a good guy," Danny argued. "She shouldn't have strung the poor man along if she was still pining for Noah, then."

"Then maybe she didn't deserve either one," Lydia sniffed crossing her arms.

"Maybe," Danny stated hitting play on the remote. He then moved back to the recliner, taking a seat again.

Derek sat down next to me, shrugging out of his jacket, and softly said, "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this."

"You are," I replied leaning back into the cushions. This was going to be a long night.

**TW**

About halfway through the movie, or a quarter of the way… were the opening credits even finished? Whatever, during the movie I stood up and headed into the kitchen. I just needed to take ten minutes away from Noah, Allie, Han (or whatever), and anything 'The Notebook' related. Plus, if I had to watch Derek cringe one more time, I was going to start laughing and I knew I wouldn't be able to stop.

So, now I stood in my kitchen, staring into the sink, trying to figure out when the best time to tell Derek why I had been avoiding him for the past few days. He wasn't going to ask again, at least not tonight, so it'd be up to me to bring it up. But how in the hell was I…

"Now I know why most of Shakespeare's romances ended in death," I heard Derek say as he came up behind me. "If I have to sit through one more minute of that movie…"

"Told you it was bad," I said turning to face him, leaning against the counter. He moved to stand next to me, his shoulder barely touching mine.

"I'd rather watch Doctor Who," he muttered and I smiled.

"Do you wanna watch it on my computer?" I asked curiously.

He looked towards the living room, listening as Lydia and Danny started arguing again, and nodded. "Sounds great."

We headed upstairs, forgoing telling my guests, and went into my room. As I looked around for the Martha Jones years, I heard Derek sit down in my desk chair. It was quiet for a moment, I was fairly certain he picked up a book, but he finally said, "So, busy huh?"

"What?" I turned, noticing the book he was holding. It was_ The Return of the King_, the same book I had been reading every night since Thursday. I had forgotten I left it on my desk. "It's a long book," I stated lamely, looking away from him.

"Did I do something to…?"

"What? No," I answered quickly. "I-it's not…" Okay, so maybe I was wrong, again. Maybe he _would_ bring it up first. God, I have to stop being wrong.

"What?" he asked softly, eyeing me cautiously.

"I…I…" Not like this. It was supposed to be later, when we weren't running the risk of being disturbed by Lydia or Danny. Oh well, the cat was peeking out of the bag. I had to tell him something. "I have to tell you something," I finally said slowly.

"Okay," he replied gesturing for me to continue.

"And what I have to tell you could very well wreck our friendship," I continued starting to pace back and forth, wringing my hands. "And I don't _want_ it to ruin our friendship, that's the last thing I want, but sometimes stuff just happens and…"

"What is it?" He was worried or maybe he was impatient; maybe he was both. Gah, I thought I was getting better at reading him.

"I have developed these feelings," I started continuing to pace, fiddling with a loose thread on my hoodie. "And these feelings are sorta new to me, but not really new because I've felt them before for another person. Though, before they hadn't felt nearly as real as they do now. You know?" I was rambling, I know, but I couldn't help it. I was nervous. "Don't get me wrong, they were real with her, too, but…" I drew in a deep breath, stopped pacing, and turned to stare at my werewolf buddy.

"Derek, I think I like you," I said softly and waited.

His face had gone blank and, if I'm not mistaken, white. Not angry white either, but paper 'holy crap I wasn't expecting that' white. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Are you…?"

"I have to go," he said suddenly, getting to his feet.

"What?"

"I'm…" he cleared his throat. "I have to go," he repeated and walked out of my room. I stood there, stunned, for a few seconds, but I finally snapped out of it and quickly chased after him, but he was already gone.

"What happened?" Lydia asked a few minutes later, when I rejoined her and Danny.

"He had to leave," I said numbly, looking down at my hands, my vision blurring slightly. I really hadn't been expecting that.


	7. Surprises

**I want to thank random-nasha, Storylover158, asduncan, no pen names left, Tleighblack, and Ink-Reader-18 for their reviews. They are much appreciated and I am so glad you guys are liking this story. I also want to thank everyone who alerted or favorited last chapter.**

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I wanted to be mad at Danny and Lydia for pressuring me into saying something. I wanted to be mad at Derek for being emotionally withdrawn and running away like a girl. And I really wanted to be mad at myself for even thinking he'd return whatever feelings I had towards him. But I wasn't. I was just numb.

I went through the next few days in a stupor, going through the motions but not really participating in anything. It was the only way I could totally cope. I just stopped thinking, stopped feeling, and managed to actually convince myself I was _fine_ with what had happened.

Yeah, I probably scared the crap out of everyone who knew me. I mean, when I say I stopped participating, I mean I _stopped_ participating. I stopped answering direct questions, I didn't partake in any conversations, and I pretty much stopped answering my phone. I was a Stiles Zombie; a Stombie. And it was all because of Derek freaking Hale. Asshole.

I was doing pretty well, not thinking about it, but sometimes, when I was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind would drift to that day. What had been his problem? Why had he run out of here like I was a pariah? Why hadn't he said anything? I would have even settled for an 'I'm sorry; I just don't feel the same way.' It would have at least given me a clue as to what he was thinking.

And I couldn't exactly ask him. He was avoiding me, just as I had avoided him. Of course, I hadn't exactly sought him out to ask him, either. We were just in an avoidance vortex, circling each other, but not getting any closer than we had to. In other words, we were pathetic, but he was _totally_ more pathetic than I was.

I guess my Stombie-ness was getting tiresome because after a week, Lydia and Danny cornered me in the hallway, right outside my Pre-Calc class, and dragged me outside.

"Okay, so it took some major convincing to keep Scott from talking to you," Lydia said the moment we were outside. "He's worried, we're worried, and we think you've moped enough."

"Actually this isn't _even _moping," Danny stated, throwing her a quick look. "Moping would entail that you've actually dealt with this. You haven't _dealt _with anything."

"Yeah, so he said 'no.' It's not like…"

"He didn't," I stated softly, catching their attention.

"What?" they said together.

"He didn't say 'no.' He didn't _say_ anything. He just ran out…" I shook my head, ignoring their pitying looks, and said, "But I don't care. It's probably for the best anyway."

"Has he called since then?" Danny asked curiously.

"No, but again I don't care," I snapped, starting towards the school again.

"Stiles wait," Lydia called after me, but I ignored her. Instead I walked back into the school, straight into _hi_s pack.

"Fantastic," I muttered sarcastically just before my arms were grabbed by Boyd and Isaac. I was dragged into the nearest bathroom, Erica leading the way, and deposited on the dirty, sticky, smelly floor.

I scrambled to my feet, just as Erica locked the door, and turned in a complete circle, very much aware of three werewolves surrounding me. I wasn't scared of them. I hadn't been scared of them in a year. But it still was a little disconcerting to be surrounded by three creatures who could very well rip my throat out without blinking an eye.

"Look guys, I'm just not in the mood to be witty right now, so what do you want?" I looked at each wolf, waiting for one of them to respond.

"What did you do to him?" Erica asked moving towards me, backing me into the sink. The small of my back rested against the hard porcelain, my eyes resting on her.

"To who?" I retorted defiantly. If he was going to send his minions after me, I was not going to be nice to them.

"To Derek," Isaac replied crossing his arms. He and Boyd stood behind Erica, trying to look menacing. It was almost comical, and had I been in a better mood I would have laughed. The puppies had nothing on their Alpha.

"Look, I seriously don't have time for…" I tried to go around the mutts, but Boyd moved to stand in my way. "Okay," I started, suddenly pissed, "here's what I want you to tell your asshole Alpha." They flinched at my tone (awesome), reeling back from me, looking angry at my '_audacity'_ to call their leader just what everyone else had thought more than once in the time since meeting him. "Tell him to stop being a chicken shit, fight his own battles, and _not_ send his minions in his place." I then shoved past the shocked wolves, stalked towards the door, and unlocked it, wrenching it open.

Anger had replaced my Stombie-ness. Anger I could barely suppress, anger I didn't want to suppress. So, instead of going to class, I strode towards the doors. I burst outside, moving towards my jeep. I had to get out of there, had to get away from these kids, _his_ pack. I didn't have a specific location in mind, but I just had to…

No, I _did _have a place in mind. I had to go see Mr. Asshole Alpha. Yeah, that's what I had to do. Why sink down to _his_ level, rely on _his _betas, when I had a mouth and I was perfectly capable of screaming at him myself? Yeah, I was going to go yell at him; very loudly, and perhaps in another language… if I knew another language. What was Spanish for 'fucking douchebag?' Ah well, I'd just stick to English.

I tore out of the parking lot, my jeep kicking up gravel, and sped down the street. A gut feeling told me he was at the train depot, so I headed that way. I thought about what I'd say to him. There was so much I could say to him, so much he deserved to hear, but there were also lines I had to draw; some things that'd be a low blow.

I wouldn't bring up his family or Kate (crazy bitch). I couldn't exactly bring up his lack of emotions either. The fact that Kate fucked him over, both figuratively and literally, and killed his family was the reason he was the way he was...

Okay, so maybe there wasn't a lot of stuff I could say to him. But there had to be something, right? Something he deserved to hear. Maybe. This might be harder than I thought.

A siren wailed behind me, getting my attention, and my eyes flicked to my side mirror. A cop car trailed me, flashing its lights, telling me to pull over. I glanced at the speedometer, my eyes widening when I realized I was doing eighty in a thirty-five. Yeah, my dad was totally going to hear about this; I was definitely grounded.

I pulled over, digging around in my glove compartment for my registration and insurance card. When I found it, buried under a pile of candy wrappers, I rolled my window down and said, "Sorry officer, I wasn't paying…"

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" a familiar voice asked, and I looked up to see my dad standing over my jeep, looking down at me. Oh yeah, most definitely grounded.

**TW**

I was grounded for two weeks. My dad took away my jeep, revoked my after school freedom (with the exception of lacrosse practice), took away my video game privileges, and otherwise laid down the law (pun definitely intended). I was stuck taking the bus (something I haven't done since I got my license), sitting in my room, and otherwise being miserable. And it was all Derek's fault. Dick.

It was Thursday night, day three of my grounding, and I was lying across my bed glaring at the ceiling. I had been doing that a lot lately, channeling my anger into my ceiling. Take that you stupid ceiling, feel the wraith of my glare.

My phone rang, but I ignored it. It was most likely Lydia, Danny, Scott, or my dad. They were worried, I knew this, but it didn't stop me from being mad at them. Of course, my poor Dad and clueless best friend had no idea why I was in such a shitty mood, but Lydia and Danny did. And now that my anger had been unleashed, I was pissed at them, too.

A tapping interrupted my brooding and glaring and I sat up to see a familiar face looking at me through my window. I sneered, hell yes I sneered, and said, "It seems you got my message." Derek gestured to the window, and I knew he wanted me to unlock it so he could come inside. "No," I said shaking my head, "use the front door like a normal person."

He growled, but moved away from the window. It was quiet for a moment, but finally I heard a knock on the front door. I slowly slipped off my bed, dawdling as I walked out of my room and down the stairs. I was being childish, I know, but I didn't care. I'd get to the door when I got to the door.

When I eventually opened the door, Derek was six shades of red and wearing a bitch face. Fighting a laugh, I crossed my arms, looked up at him, and said, "Can I help you?"

"We need to talk," he said slowly, no doubt fighting the urge to kill me.

"Do we?" Petulance, thy name is Stiles. An impatient look crossed Derek's face, and he turned to leave, but I grabbed his shoulder and said, "You might as well come inside."

He turned to face me again, his eyes zeroing in on his shoulder. With a sigh, rolling my eyes, I removed my hand and stepped aside to let him into my house. I closed the door behind him, turning to see him lingering awkwardly in the foyer, about a foot and a half away from me.

"So, we need to talk…?" I prompted, gesturing for him to say his piece so he could get the hell out. I had some serious ceiling glaring to do, and I didn't need him cutting into that time.

"I didn't _send_ them," he started softly, crossing his arms, looking anywhere but at me. "I didn't even know they were going to try and talk to you."

"That's great. It just took you three days to get here, but I am sure glad you explained everything," I said sardonically. "Is that it?" I walked past him, heading towards the stairs. "It's just, I was in the middle of something, and I really need to get…"

"I thought about what you said, too," he stated and I stilled, keeping my back to him. He sighed, and I could _just_ picture him running his hand through his dark hair. "We can't be together, Stiles. Not in the way you want. It's just…" he trailed off, drawing in a deep breath. "I don't _feel_ the same way."

He was lying. It wasn't me being petty, or me refusing to believe he didn't like me back, I could _just_ tell. And I really wanted to call him out on it, to _make_ him admit he was a liar, but I didn't. Instead, I whirled around, grabbed his jacket, pulled him towards me, and kissed him.

I surprised him, it was clear by the way he stood, but he then snapped out of it. For a split second, he kissed me back, before he pushed me away. Breathing heavily, backing into the door with a loud bang, he glared at me and snapped, "That's the last time you do that."

He then turned, yanked the door open, and walked outside, slamming the door behind him. I watched him go for a second, unable to keep the smile off my face. He kissed me back. He could deny it all he wanted, but he _did_ feel the same way. Now, I just had to figure out what was holding him back.

**TW**

"Wait, when you say he kissed you back…" Danny started as he and Lydia followed me through the library.

"He _kissed_ me back," I responded testily. This was the third time I've said it, and it was starting to lose its appeal. "His lips _moved_ with mine before he pushed me away."

"Were you doing it wrong?" Lydia asked curiously.

"No," I answered quickly. "Or, at least, I don't think I was."

"Show me with Danny," Lydia replied pushing Danny towards me.

"No," I said moving away from them. Danny threw her a glare before they raced to catch up.

"So, what are you going to do?" Danny asked curiously.

"That is a very good question," I replied taking a book off the shelf. I glanced at it, made a face, and put it back. "I know he likes me, it's clear now, but he's got it in his head that we can't be together."

"Well, if what you said is true, his last serious relationship ended with the death of his family," Lydia said calmly. "Maybe he's afraid of getting hurt again."

"Wait, his last relationship ended with his family dying?" Danny asked looking between the two. "So, he actually _dated_ Kate Argent?"

"Yes, Danny, get with the program already," Lydia retorted with a sigh, grabbing a book off the shelf and shoving it at Danny like she had the last two.

"Do you guys _know_ why she did it?" Danny asked curiously, shoving the book back at her like he had the last two times. Lydia and I shared a look, shrugging. We knew exactly why she did it, but we couldn't tell Danny. He wasn't in_ the know_ like we were.

"Maybe you should stalk him like he stalks everyone else," Lydia suggested moving towards the checkout counter.

"The only difference, he'll _know_ I'm stalking him," I responded watching as she put three books on the counter.

"Maybe you should just straight up ask him," Danny suggested leaning against the counter, picking at his thumb nail.

"I would, but he's pretty good at avoiding the subject," I replied with a sigh. He'd no doubt get uncomfortable, snap at me, and then take off before we could remotely get close to a breakthrough. Man, Kate really screwed him up.

"Maybe you two just aren't meant to be together," Lydia commented taking her books from the librarian. "Danny, aren't you single?"

"We are not dating," Danny and I said together, and she merely shrugged and led us out of the library.

"Just thought I'd suggest it," she stated just as the bell rang signaling the end of lunch. "I have calculus. See you after school." She then walked away, disappearing into the oncoming horde of kids.

"Maybe she's right," Danny said slowly, walking with me towards the gym.

"You want to date me?" I asked waggling my eyebrows, grinning at the dark look he threw me.

"No," he replied with a sigh. "I meant maybe you two are just not meant to be together."

"Who's the one who said it wasn't a long shot until something happened?" I countered lifting my eyebrows questioningly. "I refuse to believe we are relationship pariahs until we crash and burn."

"You seriously want to crash and burn?" He lifted an eyebrow, watching me cautiously.

"No," I answered with a sigh, "but I don't _want_ to give up either. Not until I've exhausted all my options."

"And those are…?"

"I'll let you know as soon as I do," I answered with another sigh, moving towards the locker room.

"At least you have a goal," Danny answered following me inside.

**TW**

That night, since I was still grounded, I sat at my desk trying to come up with the best plan to talk to Derek. I could be direct, flat out ask him, and run the risk of him avoiding the subject. I could ease him into the question by being evasive enough for him _not _to realize we were talking about feelings until we already were. Or I could just annoy him into talking to me. I liked the last option best.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair, rubbing at my eyes. This was so much easier when we were _just_ friends. He'd open up with a little wheedling on my part, and we'd just talk like two people. There was no giant elephant in the room, dancing around us, demanding attention.

A knock interrupted my thinking, and I automatically glanced at the window, but it surprised me when I realized it came from downstairs. With a sigh, I stood up and headed downstairs.

"Look, Lydia, I am not going on a date with…" I trailed off when I opened the door, my eyes widening at the sight. He was covered in blood, several cuts still bleeding severely, with a glazed look in his green eyes.

"Oh my God," I whispered just as Derek's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell forward.


	8. Taking Care of Derek

**First, thank you to asduncan, Ink-Reader-18, No pen names left, Kieron77, Tleightblack, Sinister074, random-nasha, Anonymous, and BurningSky for their reviews. You guys are part of the reason this story is so much fun to write.**

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When two-hundred plus pounds of muscle and dead-weight collapse into you, the only thing that you can do is drop to the ground with it. And that's exactly what happened when Mr. Macho Alpha passed out.

I attempted to catch him because I'm a frigging bleeding heart and couldn't let him fall to the floor. I should have known better, I'm one-hundred and fifty pounds of pure sarcasm and wit, was I really going to be able to catch someone who could rip another person's head off without even trying? I'm such an idiot.

So, there I was, sitting on the floor, unable to move because of my bloody, unconscious burden, scared out of my mind that he was dead. I probably should have checked for a pulse or something, but I was too busy trying to figure out just how in the hell I was going to get him off me.

My phone was upstairs, so I couldn't call Scott or anyone for that matter. I was on my own, trapped underneath an unconscious (possibly dead) werewolf, on the verge of panicking. What happened if my dad came home? How in the hell was I going to explain this? Of course, with Dad's help, I would be able to get up. No, I could do this on my own. Besides, I was fairly certain my father wouldn't be home for another couple of hours. Plus, if I sat here any longer there was a possibility I'd have to face whatever the hell attacked Derek. Something I hadn't thought of before. Oh boy.

Okay, I needed to stay calm. Freaking out was _not_ going to solve anything. I drew in a deep breath, slowly let it out, and decided I'd make sure Derek was actually alive first. I wrestled my arm from where it was trapped between Derek and myself, shook some feeling back into it, and then slowly let my fingertips rest on the left side of his neck. To my immense relief, a slow, sluggish pulse beat back. At least he was alive.

"Okay, Sourwolf, since you're alive, how's about you wake up," I suggested softly, lightly shaking him. The only thing I accomplished was moving his head from my chest to my shoulder. Perfect.

"Okay, um…" Maybe if I just… I wrenched my other arm free, rolling my shoulder, and grasped both his shoulders. If I just rolled him off me I should be able to…

Yes, I was free. I stood up, looking down at the still unconscious, still bleeding werewolf. I needed to get him off the floor, over to my couch, so I could call Deaton. As much as I wanted to call Scott, I think Deaton was a better option. At least he'd know what the hell to do.

I crouched down, grasping Derek under his arms, and dragged him towards my living room. How in the hell did Lydia _do _this when she drugged him? It probably had something to do with Peter possessing her. Regardless, Derek was heavy as hell and I wondered if my arms were going to fall off, but I managed to get him to the couch.

It was another struggle to get him on the fricking thing, and I was gasping for breath when I finally succeeded. I gave myself, _maybe_ seven seconds before I raced out of the room. I made sure to shut the door first and lock it. I then ran upstairs, grabbed my phone off my desk, dug some mountain ash out of my sock drawer, and raced back down the stairs.

After spreading the mountain ash in front of both the front door and the back door, plus a few of the windows, I headed back into the living room. I moved towards Derek, scrolling through my contacts for Deaton's number. He had insisted we all put it in our contacts, just in case we ever needed him. I wondered if he had predicted times like these.

"_Stiles?"_ he answered on the first ring, surprising me for a quarter of second. Then, I remembered that my name probably showed up on his phone's screen. Yep, sometimes my genius really shows.

"Hi, Doctor Deaton," I started running a hand through my hair. "Uh, are you busy?"

"_What's wrong?"_ he sounded worried.

"Uh, Derek needs some help. Do you… do you _make_ house calls?"

"_I'll be right there,"_ Deaton said and hung up. I wasn't sure how he knew where I lived, but I really didn't care at that moment.

I tossed my phone into the recliner, kneeling down next to Derek. Carefully, I removed his leather jacket, tossing it on the coffee table. I started searching him, cataloging all his injuries.

There were eight in all. Most were scattered across his torso, but a few came from his arms, his neck, and one gash slowly leaked blood from his calf. To me, they looked exactly like knife wounds, and my first thought was the hunters. Had they attacked him or had he gone to confront them? And why would he confront them in the first place? Whatever the reason, I couldn't fight the worry that settled in my stomach.

I made to stand up, but my eyes settled on a small pinprick in the nook of his arm. My eyebrows furrowed as I leaned forward, studying the wound closely. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he had been injected with something. Why would the hunters drug him; unless they were attempting to make him hurt by taking away his ability to heal. I knew werewolves couldn't heal if they were unconscious. Jeez, he was having a bad night.

I heard a knock on the back door, and I stood up. I gave Derek one last look before I headed towards the door. I peeked through the curtain first, making sure it was actually Deaton, before I unlocked the door and opened it.

He was carrying a huge first-aid kit and he wore a pair of track pants and a gray hoodie. I had apparently dragged him from sleep with my impromptu phone call. I made a mental note to apologize later.

"He's in the living room," I said nodding towards the room. Deaton nodded, carefully stepped over the mountain ash I had lain down, and headed towards where I had indicated. I closed the door, locked it, and hurried after him.

"I think someone pumped him full of something," I informed the vet, hovering over the couch, watching as he carefully checked Derek over. "I found a needle mark in the nook of his arm."

"I saw that, too," Deaton replied quietly, digging around his first-aid kit. He pulled out a pair of scissors and started cutting Derek's shirt. "Do you think you can get me a couple of towels?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah," I responded and only lingered a few more seconds before I did as he had asked. I ran upstairs, dug in the linen closet for the oldest towels we owned, and hurried back down the stairs.

I handed the towels to Deaton, who took them with a quiet 'thank you.' He then proceeded to pour rubbing alcohol on one, wiping down Derek's bloody chest. Derek must have been really out of it; the last time I had rubbing alcohol poured onto one of my wounds it stung like a bitch.

"W-will he be okay?" I asked softly, watching the vet closely.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Deaton answered as he worked, "once the drugs work their way through his system. I'll need to take some blood to be sure, but I have a feeling it's a cocktail of bear tranquilizers and wolfsbane."

"So there are hunters in town?" I muttered and Deaton nodded. "B-but how did he get away?"

"He probably fought them off," Deaton explained as he started bandaging Derek's wounds. "Sometimes a primal instinct will take over, despite a wolf's condition, and they'll fight."

"Do you think he killed them?" I asked curiously, crossing my arms, hiding the fact that I still had Derek's blood on my hands.

"It's a possibility," the vet answered calmly, his steady hands carefully taping another piece of gauze over a slowly oozing wound. "But we won't know until he wakes up."

"S-should I call the others?" I asked suddenly very worried for Scott, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and _even_ Jackson. If Derek hadn't managed to kill the hunters, would they go after his pack?

"If that is what you need to do," Deaton replied quietly, grabbing his scissors again. As he worked on cutting away Derek's pant leg, I headed into the kitchen to make my calls.

None of the werewolves were happy to be woken up, but they were all fine. The ones who Derek had bitten asked me what was wrong right away, no doubt sensing something was up with their Alpha, but I hurriedly reassured them that everything was fine (yes, I lied, so what?) and then hung up before they could ask any more questions. Scott wasn't so easily swayed and promised he'd be over as soon as he possibly could. This meant he was most likely going to bring Isaac, and that would most likely result in Erica, Boyd, and Jackson showing up. I'd better find the air mattress now.

I returned to the living room just as Deaton finished up with Derek. He put away the supplies he hadn't used, along with a vial of blood. After closing his kit, he looked up at me and said, "He'll probably sleep for the rest of the night, and no doubt start healing once he wakes up."

"Okay," I whispered nodding, my eyes locked on Derek. Worry gripped my stomach again, and I had to fight the urge to cross the room and plant myself on the floor next to him to wait out the night. Instead, I walked Deaton to the door.

"Call me if his condition worsens," the vet told me as I unlocked the door and opened it. However before I could respond, or he could leave, we were bombarded by the entire pack, each one demanding answers, looking mega pissed that I had lied to them.

"Good luck," Deaton said to me, easily breaking the mountain ash line for me, maneuvering around the pack, heading back towards his car.

"Guys," I called and they went quiet, looking at me expectantly. "He's in there, but he's not awake, so if…" I was shunted to the side as Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson rushed into the living room leaving me alone with Scott.

"Why'd he come here?" Scott asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowed.

"That's a really good question," I answered softly. Now that I wasn't worrying about the stubborn Alpha, I started to wonder why he _had_ come here. He seemed to always show up here when he was in trouble. Was I a safe haven for him? Maybe it was because of the feelings he wouldn't admit to? Or I was the only one he could trust.

No, that one wasn't it. He had an entire pack he could trust; an entire pack that betrayed him in one form or another. Was I really the only person he trusted? That was just… a lot of responsibility for me. He was damn lucky I was in _like_ with him otherwise I'd send his ass packing.

**TW**

Erica wanted to take Derek back to the train depot, I vehemently refused to let him out of my sight, she threatened to kill me, I told her to eat shit, she pushed me into a wall, Isaac and Boyd dragged her out of the living room, and after talking her down she agreed to keep Derek here.

I decided it wasn't safe to keep him on the couch, especially when my dad came home, so I had Jackson and Scott carry him up to my room. Both Erica and I kept barking at them to be careful, and I was fairly certain neither appreciated getting yelled at, but when they nearly dropped Derek three times they needed a good tongue lashing to keep them in line. I could totally be an Alpha.

After Derek was placed on my bed, Boyd, Isaac, Scott, and Jackson headed out to find whoever had done this to Derek. They split up, Scott and Isaac going downtown while Jackson and Boyd went uptown. Erica made them promise to keep in constant contact and _not_ confront the hunters.

"We do this as a pack," she told them as they left. "Derek won't like it if any of you end up hurt, too."

"If they attack us first…" Boyd started clenching his hands into fists.

"Just come back in one piece," she replied giving him a quick kiss. She then hugged Jackson and Isaac, gave Scott and little wave, and shut the window behind them. Turning to me, her brown eyes narrowed and she said, "Do you have some clean clothes he can borrow." She nodded at Derek, her eyes still on me.

"I'll check my dad's room," I stated and walked out of the room. I returned as quickly as I could, not trusting her to leave Derek be, carrying a pair of sweats and a San Diego State sweatshirt. To my surprise, and immense relief, both Erica and Derek were exactly where I left them.

"These should fit him," I said holding up the clothes. Erica nodded, holding her hand out to take them from me. I almost didn't give them to her, but I reluctantly relinquished the clothes. She eyed me cautiously for a moment before turning to Derek and saying, "Help me get him dressed."

"I… What…? Okay." I moved forward, stopping next to her. "What should we do first?"

"The shirt," she said quietly. "Sit behind him so he's sitting up." I nodded and stepped towards Derek. Downstairs, when he first showed up, I had been more preoccupied with getting him off me and making sure he was alive to really think about how close we were, but now I didn't have those distractions.

Carefully, Erica sat him up and I easily slid behind him. She let him rest against me, and my heart skipped several beats at the closeness. I was very much aware of the warmth radiating off his body, of the smell of his hair as his head settled underneath my chin, and each of his breaths against my neck as he exhaled. If Erica heard my erratic heart she didn't say anything, instead she concentrated on getting the shirt over Derek's head.

He was a mess of rubbery limbs, and it took the combined effort of both of us to get his arms into the sleeves. We made sure we were as gentle as possible, trying to avoid reopening any of his wounds. That was all he needed, to bleed some more.

"When did you become so caring?" I asked curiously, watching as Erica fussed over Derek's sweatshirt. "Last I checked you were hitting me in the face with pieces of my car, being a mega bitch, and eating other people's food."

"I've always been this way," she stated softly, turning her attention to Derek's belt. "Sometimes it's easier to be the wolf instead of going back to this. When I was _this_ nobody noticed me. And now…"

"Well, I like this Erica better," I replied quietly and she smiled.

When Derek was finally dressed in my dad's clothes and he was lying flat again, this time covered in blankets, I sat on one side of him while Erica sat on the other. I leaned my head back, against my headboard, and closed my eyes.

"You like him don't you?" Erica said softly, catching me by surprise. I opened my eyes, lifting my head just enough to look at her. She was wearing a knowing smile, her eyes flicking to my hand. I looked down, very much aware of my fingers resting in his hair. Fingers attached to a hand that was covered in his blood; blood that should have still been in his body, pumping through his veins, and not all over me, my living room, my foyer. There had been so much blood.

My eyes widened and I jumped off the bed, rushing into the bathroom. I heard Erica call my name, but I ignored her. I turned the faucet on as hot as I could stand, squirting a bunch of soap into my left palm, and then ran my hands under the water.

"I didn't mean to upset you," I heard Erica say behind me.

"You didn't," I replied quickly, scrubbing my hands. "It's just…" she must have spotted the blood in the sink because I saw her silently nod in the mirror. "I hadn't even…" I scrubbed harder, rubbing my hands raw, and would have continued had Erica not turned the water off and removed my hands from the sink.

"They're clean," she said softly, grabbing a towel. She gently dried my hands, keeping her eyes on the task at hand. "This reminds me of when Boyd was shot," she murmured. "My hands had been covered in his blood, and I thought for sure they would never get clean. I hadn't wanted him out of my sight afterwards."

"I've never seen him that bad before," I whispered clenching my eyes shut. "He's supposed to bounce back, be okay, be…"

"Derek," Erica stated nodding. "Sometimes I have to remind myself that he's not immortal. That none of us are."

She put the towel back on the rack and we headed back into my room. We sat back in our spots, my hand finding itself back in Derek's hair. Erica fiddled with his hand and said, "He likes you, too, you know."

"I know," I responded quietly. "Just wish he'd say it."

"He's scared, Stiles," she murmured without looking at me. "I can sense it sometimes, mostly when he's asleep or relaxed. He's hard to read when he's trying, but when he lets his guard down…"

"He's an open book," I finished for her, and she nodded. "Do you know why he's scared?"

"No," she answered quietly. "That's something _you'll_ have to ask him."

We fell silent. Erica stared out the window, no doubt waiting for Boyd and the others to return, while I started thinking about what she had just told me. So, big, bad Alpha was scared but of what exactly? Of me hurting him; maybe of me getting hurt? I'd definitely need to ask him.

I must have fallen asleep during my contemplating because the next thing I was aware of was sunlight blasting me in the face. I snorted awake, blinking, tilting my head away from the window. I had a crick in my neck from sleeping sitting up, and it took a few head turns to get the pain to go away.

I let my eyes flick around my room, very much aware of the missing beta. I found a note sitting on my bed, written in Erica's handwriting. I picked it up, being careful not disturb Derek, and read it.

_S,_

_Boys turned up empty-handed. Cleaned up the blood for you. Might want to take the couch cushions to the cleaners sometime today. Call us if you need us._

_-E_

_P.S. Your secret is safe with me._

I smiled, placed the note on my end table, and rolled out of bed. I stretched, reminded myself to never, ever sleep sitting up again, and glanced down at Derek. He looked years younger in sleep. Of course, I had read somewhere that everyone looks younger when they were asleep. It had something to do with us being more relaxed, not having to worry about all the burdens we put on our shoulders. Though, with Derek, I had a feeling it had something to do with the drugs in his system.

My stomach growled, getting my attention, and I slowly walked out of the room. I walked down the stairs, heading into the kitchen, glancing over at the foyer as I walked past it. Erica did a good job cleaning up the mess. I figured I could always put a sheet over the couch until I could get around to getting them cleaned. I'd have to recruit Scott or Lydia to do it for me since I was kinda, sorta still grounded.

As I looked around for something to eat, my phone rang from my pocket. I pulled it free, spotted Deaton's name, and answered, "Hello_."_

_ "His blood work came back with trace amounts of bear tranquilizers and wolfsbane,"_ Deaton said slowly. "_I thought you'd like to know."_

"So, you were right," I stated taking a bowl out of the cupboard.

"_Yes, and he should be okay once he wakes up._"

"That's great," I replied balancing my phone in between my ear and shoulder as I dragged down a box of _Froot Loops_. "When is that going to be exactly?"

"_Soon I expect. Wolfsbane sometimes takes a while to work its way through a werewolf's system. Had his body been able to heal, there would have been black liquid coming from his nose, mouth, eyes and ears."_

I cringed, remembering when Derek had thrown up the black crap after he had been shot by the monkshood bullet. It hadn't smelt very good, looked just as nasty, and I hoped to never see it again.

"Will that happen when he wakes up?" I asked pouring cereal into my bowl. Something had to be wrong with me if I could still be hungry while talking about the black gunk werewolves vomited when they were unable to heal.

"_I don't think so. His body has had time to break down the wolfsbane. He should be able to heal normally when he wakes up._"

"Okay," I replied moving towards the fridge to get the milk. "Thanks for last night, by the way. If you hadn't shown up…"

"_It's my job, Stiles,_" Deaton stated easily dismissing my thank you.

"Well, still…" I trailed off, biting my lip. "Sorry for waking you up last night, too."

"_Again, it's my job. Just call me if you need anything else, okay?"_

"Okay." We talked for a few more seconds before hanging up. I stashed my phone back in my pocket, and poured milk into my bowl. I put the jug away, grabbed my cereal, and carried it back upstairs.

I took a seat in my desk chair, rested my feet on my bed, and began to eat, waiting for Mr. Sleepyhead Alpha to wake up. I didn't have to wait long, my cereal barely a quarter eaten, when I noticed his hand twitch.

I put my feet back on the floor, scooting to the edge of my chair, watching him closely, silently begging him not to puke. I wasn't sure how easily that black crap could be cleaned up. I mean was it like blood or grape juice, not easy to get out? That would suck, and that reminded me I should probably get the couch cushions to the dry cleaners before my dad realized…

"That's creepy," a familiar voice croaked, knocking me back to reality. Derek's green eyes were half-mast, watching me.

"Hey, compared to your level of creepiness this barely scratches the surface," I retorted drily.

"What happened?" he asked curiously, pushing himself up, wincing slightly. His hair was sticking up all over his head, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a little cute… That wasn't what I… I meant. Oh, forget it.

"What's the last thing you remember?" I countered digging into my cereal, very much aware of the worry settling in my stomach again. I had to remind myself it was a side-effect of the drugs.

"Walking here," he murmured resting his head against my headboard, his eyes closing.

"What?" I sat up straighter, waiting for an answer, but he had already fallen asleep again. He was walking _here_? Why was he walking here? A part of me wanted to shake him awake, ask him, but I knew he needed to rest. So, I was left contemplating and speculating, waiting for him to wake up again, to be more lucid. Of course, there was a good chance he wouldn't even remember waking up the next time around.

I finished my cereal, placed the bowl on my desk, and sat down in my computer chair again. I leaned back, putting my feet on my bed, and closed my eyes.

I hadn't remembered fallen asleep, and seriously I had to stop doing that, but when I woke up again I found my room Derek-less; a note sitting on my pillow. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and slowly got to my feet.

I moved towards the note, grabbing it off my pillow. In Derek's block handwriting were the words: _**Thanks. D**_

With a humorless snort, I crumpled the note up and threw it away. He couldn't even be bothered to wake me up. Was he that determined to avoid me? Well, I was very persistent. He wasn't getting rid of me that easily. I just had to climb out my…

"Stiles," I heard my dad call, causing me to freeze half-way towards my window. "Why is there blood on my couch cushions?" Crap, I knew I had forgotten something.


	9. Unexpected Company

I told my dad that the blood was actually fake, made for a history project. I said that Erica had been over and we had been working on it together when I spilled some all over the couch by accident. It wasn't my best lie, didn't even make the top ten, but I think he just didn't want to believe it was real, so he accepted the story.

Dodging that bullet, I spent the remainder of the weekend trying to figure out how to get out of my grounding. I needed my jeep back so I could drive to Derek's house, or hovel, and demand he answer some of my questions. I wanted to know why he was walking here the night he was attacked. I also needed to know the real reason we couldn't be together. They were two, very simple questions, but I had a feeling the answers weren't going to be _that _simple.

Sunday night, still unsure how exactly I was going to convince my father to grant me 'parole,' the man in question knocked on my open door. I looked up from my bed, putting the book down that I had been reading (I still had no frigging clue who it was about).

"Yeah," I said curiously. He smiled, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "Seriously?" I rolled off my bed, rushing across the room. I tried to take the keys from him, but he pulled them from my grasp.

"No more cutting class, no more speeding," he stated slowly and I nodded, "and you're picking up the cushions from the dry cleaners tomorrow after school."

"Done, done, and done," I replied reaching for the keys again.

And again he didn't relinquish them. He eyed me for a moment, a worried look crossing his face, and softly asked, "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah, Dad, everything is fine," I responded giving him a semi-forced smile.

"Are you sure? It's just you've been moping around the house for a while now. If something is bothering you…"

"I'm fine," I assured him. I didn't want him to worry about me. He already worried enough; I didn't need to give him another reason. "Can I please have my keys?"

"If you're sure," he stated sounding a little skeptical.

"I am. I promise." And to prove my point, I made an X over my heart. "Can I please have my keys?"

"Okay," he said handing the keys over. I pocketed them. "But remember, if you ever need to talk…"

"I know." I nodded, understanding perfectly. He just wanted to help, but I had a feeling telling him that I was in _like_ with a guy six years older than me, who liked me back but wouldn't admit it, wasn't exactly going to make him happy.

He nodded back, lingering awkwardly in the doorway. He then jerked his thumb behind him and said, "I need to get ready for work."

"Okay," I said softly. I jerked my head towards my bed. "I need to finish up my English project."

"Okay." He turned, one foot out the door, but stopped. "I mean it. If you need to talk…"

"I know," I repeated with a genuine smile.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

"Bye Dad," I replied waving. He smiled back and then walked away. I headed back to my bed, grabbed my book, and once again tried to read it.

After fifteen minutes, I found myself still staring at the same word ('the' if you're curious), thinking about Derek. I wondered what he was doing. Most likely brooding; maybe training his puppies. He could also be walking here right now.

My book fell to the floor and I scrambled to my feet, moving across the room to the window. I glanced outside, but only found my dad's car gone; so much for wistful thinking. I sighed, heading back to my bed, picking my book up off the floor.

I settled on my bed, but didn't open the book. I just stared out my window, biting my lip. I had my jeep back and it was only ten o'clock. It wouldn't hurt just to see if he was home.

I stood up, shoving my feet into my shoes, and moved towards my bedroom door, snatching my red hoodie off the back of my desk chair on the way. I headed down the stairs, taking my keys from my pocket. Just five minutes wouldn't kill me, and I could easily say I was meeting Erica. I hadn't seen her since Friday night.

**TW**

"Hey baby. Did you miss me? I missed you," I said to my jeep the moment I stepped outside. She had been sitting there, looking mighty lonely for the past week. We had never been separated for that long, and we were both starting to feel the neglect. "I will never get you taken away again," I quietly promised as I unlocked the door. "You need to be washed." I ran my finger across the door, smearing dirt across my fingertips. "Yeah, definitely need to be washed."

Making a mental note to do that tomorrow, after picking up our couch cushions (FYI couches are not the same when they are missing their key part), I got in my jeep. Closing the door, I put the key in the ignition, listening to the engine as it turned over and came to life. I could almost hear my jeep saying, "_Stiles, you've come back to me._"

"Yeah, I just couldn't stay away," I said back. What? It's my jeep. I can say whatever the hell I wanted to her, and you can't stop me (picture me sticking my tongue out).

I slowly drove down the streets, heading towards the Hale house. This time my gut told me to head there, and I followed it. The one thing my dad taught me, practically drilled into my head, was to always trust your gut. And mine hasn't steered me wrong… at least not often. There was this one time… you know what, forget it.

Fifteen minutes later, as I made the turn to the Hale House, I wasn't surprised to see Derek's Camaro parked out front. I knew he knew I was here, the guy's hearing could probably pick up my jeep a mile or two away from the turn off. Damn wolf hearing taking away my element of surprise.

I parked my jeep next to his car, turned the engine off, but didn't immediately get out of the vehicle. I stared at the house for a while, trying to picture what it looked like before the fire. I had seen a total of one photo, after taking a peek at the crime scene photos a few days after the fire, but my dad had dragged me away before I could get a really good look. From what I _did_ see, the Hales definitely came from money.

A knock sounded from the window, scaring the holy hell out of me. I turned, intending to roll the window down, but froze when I saw who was staring at me.

Peter smiled, gesturing for me to get out of the jeep. I shook my head slowly, my hand reaching for the keys, but he flashed his claws, his eyes jerking to the tires, and I sighed in frustration, rolling the window down. Take that you psychotic jackass.

"What?" I snapped glaring at him.

"Derek's not here," Peter responded giving me a small, knowing smile.

"What?" Did everyone know about this stupid crush? That just sucked royal balls.

"My nephew," Peter replied slowly, rolling his eyes.

"What makes you think I wasn't looking for you?" I retorted quickly. Yeah, like I would ever willingly look for Peter.

"Please," he said snorting. "I'm many thing-" psychotic, heartless, a murderer, "-but stupid isn't one of them, Stiles."

"Well, where is he?" I asked slowly, my eyes meeting Peter's.

"He went for a walk. He'll be back in a few minutes." Peter lowered his voice, leaning into my window, and it took all I had not to flinch away. "Between you and me, I think he's trying to avoid me."

"Wonder why. I mean you're such a delightful person," I retorted sarcastically, and he gave me a 'that's cute' type smile. "Can you tell him I stopped…?"

"You can tell him yourself," Peter said turning his head to the left. "He's right over there." He turned back to me. "Sometimes it just takes the right amount of pressure," he informed me with a smile. "Good-bye Stiles."

As he walked away, melting into the trees, I noticed Derek's silhouette standing in between two trees, no doubt eyeing my jeep cautiously. I waved, knowing he could see me, and got out.

"What are you doing here?" he asked walking towards me, stopping a good three feet from me and crossing his arms.

"Looking for you," I replied honestly. What was the point in lying? He'd know; again, damn werewolf hearing. "How've you been?"

"Go home," he said moving towards his car.

"You can't keep avoiding me," I called after him.

"Watch me," he called back.

"I know this is because I told you I like you." That statement made him stop, and I noticed his shoulders tense up. "Look, I can't help how I feel and neither can you."

"Go home," he repeated, still standing there with his back to me.

I wanted to ask him why he was walking to my house the night he was attacked. I wanted to demand to know why we couldn't just be together. But I didn't say either. Instead I quietly asked, "What are you so afraid of? Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you? That I'll pull a Kate? Because I won't, Derek; you know I won't. I'd die before I betrayed you… or your pack.

"Or is it something else? Are you afraid you'll hurt me? In case you haven't noticed, I've been hurt dozens of times since meeting you and none of them were _because_ of you."

Had this been a year ago, I wouldn't have said any of this, but I was confident he wouldn't kill me. He had a dozen chances and he hadn't taken a single one. Besides, I needed to say this regardless of if he listened to me or not.

"You might not want to admit it, but I know you feel something; just like I do. And I can't wait forever for you to pull your head out of your ass. I just thought you'd like to know. So, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

I turned and headed towards my jeep, not waiting for a response. I slid into the driver seat, turned the engine over, and drove away. There, my cards were on the table. Now I just had to wait for him. A part of me told myself not to hold my breath.

**TW**

"You told him that?" Lydia asked the next day at school, following me and Danny into the cafeteria.

"He needed to hear it," I said moving towards the lunch line. "Besides, it didn't work. In case you haven't noticed, I'm still single."

"You know…"

"No," Danny and I said together.

"It doesn't hurt to keep your options open," she sniffed grabbing a tray.

"Whose options?" Jackson asked as he appeared right behind me. I jumped, knocking into Danny, tripping over my feet. He caught me before I could hit the floor, and I thanked him with a smile.

"Colleges," I said quickly. Yeah, I realize I didn't exactly answer the question, but I was under a lot of pressure.

"Still doesn't tell me whose options, Stilinski," Jackson retorted grabbing a tray.

"For me," Danny stated quickly, saving me from any further embarrassment. I flashed him another 'thank you' smile, and he nodded his head.

"Uh-huh." Jackson eyed us suspiciously, knowing we were lying, but opted to let it go. He shook his head and moved ahead of us to talk to Lydia.

"I should just wear a sandwich board announcing my crush," I said as Danny and I continued down the lunch line. "I'd at least avoid moments like that." He laughed, shaking his head, and grabbed a plate of whatever the hell was for lunch today. Was that turkey? Chicken? Stew? Yeah, I was not eating that.

I grabbed a bag of chips, punching Danny's arm. "Ow, what the hell?" he snapped giving me a half-glare.

"You owe me an answer," I said with an expectant look. "I did my part of the deal, Thursday might I add, and now it's your turn. Fess up."

He was quiet for a moment, looking in the cooler for something to drink. He finally decided on an orange juice, slowly straightening up. He then looked down at me and said, "My ex thinks you're cute."

"Really?" I furrowed my eyebrows, suddenly not sure if I should trust Danny.

"Yeah," he said nodding, "and so does my friend Gary. I also heard a couple of those transvestites talking about you the other night at the club. And… I don't think you're bad looking either."

"So… so I am attractive to gay guys?" Danny nodded. "Awesome," I whispered after a short pause, deciding he was telling the truth, pumping my fist. "Yes!" He merely rolled his eyes and walked away from me. At least one good thing happened today. I finally got my answer.

**TW**

I pulled my jeep into my driveway, putting it in park. I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat, opting to leave the cushions in the back for later, turned my vehicle off, removed my keys from the ignition, and got out. I was wondering if I should have pizza or Chinese tonight, trying very hard not to think about a certain werewolf.

I walked towards the door, unlocking it. As I stepped inside, I immediately headed into the kitchen, grabbing a soda out of the fridge, deciding on Chinese. I hadn't had it in a while, and some egg rolls sounded pretty good right now.

I headed upstairs, intending to look up the Chinese place's number online, but froze when I opened my door and saw Derek standing in the middle of my room.

"Come to yell at me?" I asked tossing my bag onto the floor. "Because I'm not taking back what I said. No matter what you say to me. I meant every word." I walked towards my desk, setting my soda down. "In fact, I think I'll get the words etched onto a t-shirt; wear it around town so everyone knows what I said to you. What do you think?" He didn't respond, so I kept talking. "Maybe I'll get a sandwich board saying 'I am potentially falling in love with Derek Hale. Laugh at me.' How does that sound?"

I took my hoodie off, tossing it over my desk chair, waiting for him to say something. He was still being quiet and it was a little creepy. "Okay, so, not a good idea?" I opted to say, not letting him know that he was getting to me. "Perhaps I should just…"

I turned to face him, taking a step back when I realized he was standing right behind me, hitting my desk. "Shut up," he snarled grabbing me. Before I could say another word, he kissed me.

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**A big thanks to: No pen names left, Sterwolf59, Tleightblack, Kieron77, and random-nasha for their awesome reviews. I really hope this chapter didn't disappoint you.**

**So, thanks for reading, I'm pretty proud of the ending (a part of me fought it the entire time), and leave me a comment if you can.**

**I still don't own 'em.**

**See ya!**


	10. A Complication

**First let me thank my loyal reviewers: Guest, Sterwolf59, Tleightblack, random-nasha, Kieron77, Sasu-Sama' Sarukiji-Sempai, MentToBeForever, and Storylover158 for their reviews. Thanks guys.**

**Second, the beginning of this is... it's not something I normally write, so if it's bad I apologize.**

**And third, I'm bringing in a major obstacle for Derek and Stiles. Let's see how much fun I can have with it.**

**So, thanks for alerting and favoriting last chapter, I don't own these characters, and drop me a comment if you can.**

**See ya!  
**

* * *

Okay, I was suffering from sensory overload. Surprise battled pleasure, confusion battled triumph, hormones battled logic. It was World War Three in my head, and I wasn't even sure what side was winning. Actually, I didn't even care which side was winning. Should I care what side was winning? Oh, who gave a shit because Derek freaking Hale was kissing me. Me! Stile Stilinski! Awkward, gawky Stiles who babbled when he was nervous, who owned way too many hoodies, who had been thinking about this for too freaking long. Me!

And what was I doing? Thinking about emotional World War Three and wondering what side was winning and freaking the hell out. Was I dying? Was he dying? Why was he suddenly kissing me? Were we a couple? Was this a onetime thing? Did he want sex? Was I ready for sex? Would my dad kill him? Holy crap, I'm going to hyperventilate. Stop thinking, Stiles. Just stop thinking.

I forced my brain to shut down, shoved logic to the back of my mind, and hopped onto the pleasure train; next stop Stiles' happiness. I kissed him back fiercely, listening as he growled in the back of his throat. Not meaning to sound like Paris Hilton, but that was totally hot.

I felt myself get hoisted up and placed on my desk. I heard a few things fall off the surface and hit the floor. My hand landed on my stereo's remote, and All Time Low immediately began blasting from the speakers. I ignored the song, something about needing therapy, my mind more preoccupied with the hands that were roaming all over my body. Holy crap did that feel good; his touch was gentle, warm just like his lips. His soft, soft lips. I wondered if they were naturally soft or if he used some type of lip balm.

And just like that logic took control again. It threw me from my pleasure train, laughing as I bounced against the ground. As his lips began to wander away from my mouth-oh my God, that's my collar bone-I managed to gasp, "W-what changed y-your mind?"

"You," he answered gruffly, his lips moving against my jaw. He really, really, really needed to go back to _my _lips otherwise I was going to lose it.

"W-was it, um…?" Okay, that's my ear. Lips Sourwolf, go back to the lips… ah. "W-was…?" What the hell was I talking about again? Why was I even talking? What was this talking I kept thinking about? And why was I even thinking? Thinking was bad; really, really bad.

Pleasure rolled through me in waves, making me very warm, and I was fairly certain someone would have to physically pry me off of Derek, until the pleasure was replaced by pain.

I hissed, feeling Derek wrench himself away from me. My hand went to my neck, my fingertips brushing against two scratches. I hissed again, pulling my hand away from the side of my neck. I looked at my fingers, noticing the blood.

"I-I'm sorry," Derek whispered from across the room, his arms crossed, his red eyes locked on the floor.

"It's okay," I said quickly. "It's just a scratch. It's not even that bad." I slid off my desk and crossed the room slowly, raising my hands when it looked like he wanted to bolt, and softly said, "You didn't hurt me. It stung for a moment, but I'll live. It's fine." I stopped within touching distance of him, resting my hands on his shoulders. "It's fine," I repeated, whispering.

He breathed deeply, uncrossing his arms, letting them fall to his sides. I watched as his eyes slowly shifted back to green. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. "I don't know what happened," he admitted quietly.

"You lost control," I murmured, breathing in his scent. "It happens."

"Not to me," he said and I could feel his breath against my face. "And not when I'm around you. It can't happen around you."

"I think you need a new anchor," I stated dropping my hands from his shoulders, grasping his hands. "We'll find you one."

"I think I already found it," he said softly, lightly kissing me.

I snorted, definitely breaking the moment, and said against his mouth, "That was so cheesy."

"Shut up," he growled, but he was smiling.

"But in a good way," I quickly replied. "I would be honored to be your anchor. Though, I won't get it tattooed on my body. I think my dad would kill me, and having 'Derek's anchor' plastered anywhere on me would just raise too many questions…" he snorted, shaking his head. "What?"

We were quiet for a moment, but I just couldn't stay quiet for long, unless our little display on my desk had anything to say about it, and I broke the silence. "So, I changed your mind?"

"It was a combination of you, and me not being able to stay away," he admitted shrugging.

"Maybe you should get 'Masochist' tattooed on your forehead," I commented grinning. He playfully growled, shaking his head again. "I'm glad you changed your mind because I was totally lying about _not_ waiting forever. I was actually thinking about stalking you. You know, since I learned from the best and everything."

"You're an idiot," he grumbled.

"But a loveable one," I retorted and he smirked. "Let's not forget that."

He pulled away from me, crossing the room to sit on my bed. I moved to sit next to him, turning to face him. "So, are we like officially a couple now?" I hadn't meant to ask, but the words left my mouth before I could stop them. Again, sometimes my mouth moved faster than my brain. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry." Okay, how did I fix this?

He was quiet for a moment, pensive (without the brooding; a step up for my Sourwolf), but he finally turned to me and said, "If that's what you want…"

"I'm all in," I replied without hesitating. "Though you may have to walk me through this whole dating thing. I've only had one relationship, when I was thirteen, and she broke up with me because I didn't like her shoes."

"Yeah, well, I'm about as lost as you are," he admitted quietly. "My last relationship…" he trailed off, looking away from me. I did know about his last relationship, and I hated that he had to live with what Kate did to him. He didn't deserve that; nobody deserved what she did.

"I'm not Kate," I reminded him.

"I know," he replied nodding. He looked up at me again, his eyes zeroing in on my cut. He gently touched it and I felt the stinging ease. I had read about werewolves being able to take pain, had even seen Scott do it once, but it was surreal to have my own pain taken away. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"It's just a scratch," I reminded him.

"It won't happen again," he promised dropping his hand from my neck. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," I said softly. "Besides, your entire pack would kill you if you did. Remember, they love me." He gave me a small smile. "You need to do that more often. It makes you look less growly."

"God you're annoying," he muttered rolling his eyes.

"Admit it. You love that about me," I retorted kissing him. He merely smiled against my lips, shaking his head. Eh, it was worth a try.

**TW**

We didn't do anymore 'desk' activities, instead we watched the rest of Donna's episodes and began Martha Jones', and Derek was out of the house ten minutes before my dad got home. Him and those damn ears.

My dad must have picked up on my good mood, and believe me I was in the best mood ever, because he smiled at me and said, "We should go out tonight."

"Are you treating me to dinner, father mine?" I asked curiously.

"Yes," he replied nodding.

"Well, as long as you're paying…" he shook his head, moving towards the stairs to change out of his uniform. When he came back down the stairs, we headed out to a diner we usually frequented.

On the drive there, my dad glanced over at me and said, "Did something happen to your neck?"

"What?" I felt the scratches, my face burning red. "Uh, I was walking through the woods today. Must have hit a tree branch or something."

"Did you put anything on it?" he asked curiously, a little skeptical of my story. I couldn't exactly tell him I got the scratches while making out with my werewolf boyfriend. Holy crap I had a werewolf boyfriend. I was in the same league as Lydia and Allison… and Erica by default. Huh, I hadn't thought of it like that; it was like our own special club. That is, if Derek wanted people to know; did he care if they found out? Should I keep it to myself? And didn't my dad just ask me a question?

"Uh, yeah," I finally answered. He gave me a curious look, raising one eyebrow, but otherwise didn't say another word. The car was filled with an awkward silence, one I just could not handle, and I ended up saying, "So, Dad, how about those Mets?"

**TW**

Dinner was filled with mostly small talk. Dad told me about his time at the station, being careful _not_ to let anything remotely interesting slip, and I told him about school. He seemed interested in my friendship with Lydia and Danny the most, asking me when I had started hanging around them. He also wanted to know if I was still friends with Scott.

"Yeah, Dad," I started picking at my food. "It's just, Scott has Allison and Isaac, and I needed a friend."

"Well, I'm glad you have Danny and Lydia," he said softly, smiling at me. I smiled back, though it was partially forced. I wanted so badly to tell him that I had Derek, too, but I had a feeling that would be a terrible idea, especially since Derek had already been a person of interest in one murder and who knows how many petty crimes. He was the town delinquent. I was dating the town delinquent. Could I get anymore 1955?

After dinner, as we were driving home, Scott called me and told me we had a emergency pack meeting tonight. Great, a pack meeting, and I probably reeked of Derek. This was going to be an _awesome _meeting.

The moment we got home, I ran inside and up the stairs. I headed into the bathroom, striped down, and got in the shower. I wondered if I scrubbed hard enough, the essence of Derek would just go away. I doubted it, but it was definitely worth a shot. Besides, Derek would most likely smell like me unless, you know, he's doing the exact thing I'm doing. Wet, hard body covered in soap, his muscles…

Oh jeez, Stiles, stop picturing him in the shower.

After my shower, I quickly changed my clothes, put a bandage over my cut, and hurriedly left the house with a quick good-bye to my dad. As I drove to the train depot, my car full of the strong scent of my soap, I wondered what the meeting was about. Were the Alphas back? Did they find the hunters? Did Peter start killing people again? Were we going to kill Peter? I liked that option best.

I parked my jeep next to Lydia's car, took one last whiff of myself, and got out. I walked inside and immediately went down the stairs, very much aware of murmuring. Murmuring that seemed to stop the moment I stepped off the last step.

Erica and Lydia were looking at me, their eyes wide, knowing grins on their faces. Great, so the soap hadn't worked, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of knowing they caught me. So, I put my hands on my hips and said, "What?"

"Oh nothing," Lydia said grinning.

"Lover boy," Erica stated and both girls laughed.

"What are you…?

"I smelled you on Derek," Erica said slowly, her grin widening. "He pretended like nothing happened and disappeared to take a shower, but I smelled you. And, though that soap is really strong, I can smell him on you, too."

"When did it happen?" Lydia asked curiously.

"When did you two join forces?" I countered still _not_ giving them the satisfaction. "Last I checked, you weren't exactly best friends."

"Stiles just tell us." Erica put her own hands on her hips, giving me an intimidating stare. I'll admit, she pulled it off slightly better than Isaac, but it still wasn't up to Derek's standards.

"Tell you what?" Derek said, coming in from the old train, Isaac right behind him, moving towards us. Erica and Lydia shared a quick look, shook their heads, and moved over to the corner, away from us, taking Isaac with them.

"My hero," I murmured batting my eyelashes. Derek merely glared, turning to watch as the rest of the pack joined us. The only one missing was Peter. So, maybe we were killing him after all. I could only be so lucky.

"What's this about?" Scott asked the moment we were all assembled.

"Yeah, I've got a English project to finish," Jackson said from against the wall. His arms were crossed and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Truth be told, as much as I liked being in close proximity to Mr. Sourwolf, I'd rather be anywhere else, too. The train depot was rank. Seriously, did they ever hear of air fresheners? (Note to self: buy air fresheners.)

"Isaac caught the hunters' scent," Derek informed us, frustration flickering across his face, his eyes settling on Jackson. "They're closer," he continued, his eyes flicking over to me, "and they are far from done with us."


	11. Bonding With Erica and Other Surprises

**As always thanks to my lovely reviewers: Kieron77, Tleighblack, random-nasha, Storylover158, and Sterwolf59. You guys are Mega, Super, Kickass awesome. Cyber hugs to all of you :)**

**Also thanks to those who alerted and favorited last chapter.**

**Anyway, this chapter isn't really action-y, but it will pick up in the next one. I actually have it planned out, I just need to sit down and write it. I think the hunters will make an appearance in chapter twelve... maybe. It could be eleven. Just keep a look out for them.**

**So, thanks for reading, I'm not the creator nor owner of these characters, and I really hope to see ya in the next chapter.**

**Leave me a comment if you can**

* * *

The werewolves started doing nightly patrols, two wolves per shift. Derek didn't want any of his puppies to end up like him, and I whole-heartedly agreed. One bloody, beaten up werewolf was enough for me. He also posted a werewolf outside of my house, Lydia's, and Allison's (on her father's request since he was helping the werewolves). It was like the Alphas all over again, and as much as I liked the extra protection, it was starting to get a little irritating because a) it was never Derek watching over me and b) being followed around all day by a werewolf just felt like I was being stalked, and definitely not in a good way.

Actually, since Isaac picked up on the hunter's scent, I hadn't really seen much of Derek outside of pack meetings. Seriously, what was the point of having a werewolf boyfriend if he was never around? And yes, I get it, he was trying to keep us all safe from the hunters, being the overprotective jackass that we all knew and loved, but it wouldn't kill him to take five seconds to check in with me, let me know he was okay. So, if worrying about him made me sound like a nag then so be it.

Thursday night, three days after Isaac's discover, I had Erica as my guard. Since I'm me, and can't just keep the wolves outside, I had already invited her up to my room. I did that with every single werewolf because my mother and father raised me to have manners. Plus, I didn't have to worry about my father getting phone calls from all the neighbors, reporting someone lurking around outside of our house.

She was sitting in the middle of my bed, painting her toenails. I had asked her, several times, to do that on the floor, but Erica hadn't quite mastered the art of listening; plus, I didn't have super, awesome alpha powers so I couldn't _make_ her do anything. So, I was forced to rely on her ability not to spill nail polish all over my blankets.

"He'd be here if he could, you know," she said absentmindedly, working on her right, middle toe.

"What?" I looked up from my book (still had no clue what it was about, and the fact that it was an _autobiography _was not lost on me) and glanced over at her from my desk.

"Oh, come on, stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about," she replied dipping the cap back into the bottle. "If you want to hide a relationship from your friends you should probably stop hanging around werewolves."

"Erica," I started turning my chair completely around, "I don't want to talk about it, okay."

"Were your kisses really that bad?" She smirked at the appalled look I threw her. "I'm kidding," she said, her smirk dropping, "but seriously, I can _see_ the scratches on your neck, and I can _smell _the pining, puppy love rolling off of you from over here. Plus Derek's been grumpier than usual. You two are seriously in need of some alone time; preferably sooner rather than later."

I snorted, shook my head, and turned my chair back to my book. I tried reading again, but what she said was gnawing away at me. Finally, I slammed the book shut, turned back around, and asked, "Does he really miss me?"

"Careful Stiles, I might have to accuse you of being needy," Erica teased grinning and I threw her a sharp look. As she pulled the brush from the bottle again, starting to work on her left foot, she said, "Yes, he does. He's also scared these hunters are going to hurt you. Actually he's scared they'll hurt all of us, but I have a feeling you are number one on that list."

"Should you be telling me this?" I asked curiously, raising my eyebrows, fighting a smile. Aw, he really did like me. "I mean, won't he kill you or something?"

"He won't," she replied earnestly. "You'll protect me, Batman." She flashed me a smile and returned to her toes. I snorted, shaking my head, and went back to my book.

We were quiet for a while, Erica finishing up her feet and moving onto her hands while I abandoned my book and did some serious RPGing. I had a wizard to level up and a team of misfits to lead. Plus, if I didn't get on every so often my cousin Erwin took over for me, and he was just… he was terrible. There was no other word for what Erwin was; he was a failure at RPGs. A noob; the noobiest of the noobs; in fact, he was their leader. I was so glad I only had to see him during the holidays; too much Erwin destroyed what little sanity I had left.

"Why do you play these games?" Erica asked a while later, scaring the holy hell out of me. I had been so absorbed in my fantasy world that I had forgotten she was even here.

"Don't do that," I snapped turning to face her. She was standing directly behind me, apparently learning her creeper skills from her big, bad alpha. He was a bad influence. "God, you are all getting bells for Christmas."

Erica flashed me an amused smile, shaking her head. She turned back to my game and said, "Seriously, why do you play these games? Isn't your entire life one of these games?"

"The only difference, in here I am a level 35 wizard. In an attack, I can flash some dark magic, kill the bad guys. In reality…" I trailed off, looking away from her. I hadn't really given it much thought before, but now I actually thought over why I played video games. I was useful in a video game, needed. In real life, research guy could only get me so far in our group, and I didn't have the same special skills as everyone else; I was virtually the lame of the group.

"You're not useless, Stiles," Erica said quietly, no doubt picking up on my emotions. "In a way, you're like the heart of the group. Derek may have brought us together, but you keep us together."

"Really?"

"Yes," she replied moving away from me. "You're far from useless. And I'm sure a certain alpha would agree with me." She flashed me a knowing smile, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Maybe," I muttered exiting off my game. Deaton had offered to teach me the same stuff he had been teaching Lydia, but I hadn't taken him up on his offer yet. Maybe I should think about it. "So, how long are you here for?" I asked changing the subject.

"Until midnight, and then I think Isaac is taking my place," she responded wandering around my room. I vaguely nodded, turning away from her again. I really didn't want to spend the night with Isaac. "I could stay all night," she stated picking up my stereo remote, again sensing my emotions (stupid werewolf senses). "If you'd prefer that."

"No," I said softly, fiddling with a loose thread on my sweatshirt. "Isaac is fine."

"If you say so," she responded turning my stereo on. The All-American Rejects softly played from the speakers. "Your music taste could use some work," she stated putting the remote down.

"AAR is a good band," I argued crossing my arms. "Granted, I've only listened to their older stuff, but I've heard good things about their new stuff." I think; I only had one of their albums because my aunt bought it for me for Christmas. So, yeah, I was totally lying out of my ass, but from what I heard they weren't bad.

Erica snorted, shaking her head, and walked back towards my bed. She fell backwards on it, looking up at the ceiling. "How can you spend your free time just sitting up here, doing nothing?"

"Sure beats going out there," I retorted gesturing to the window, "and worrying about getting hunted down by speciesists."

"Speciesists?" Erica sat up, giving me an incredulous look.

"Werewolves are a species. Just like humans, cats, dogs…" I trailed off, running a hand through my hair. "And these people hunt you guys down because they distrust you and don't understand you, and instead of talking, instead of trying to figure out how to co-exist with you guys, they just kill you and anyone associated with you. A big group of…"

"Speciesists," Erica finished for me.

"Exactly," I replied nodding. She gave me a curious look before lying back down. I stood up, moving across the room, and laid down next to her. "How's things?" I asked curiously, turning my head to look at her.

"Things are good," she responded quietly, tilting her head my way. "How are things with you? You know, besides the obvious." I stuck my tongue out at her and she chuckled.

I drew in a breath and said, "Things are fine." I scratched my neck, moving my head so I was looking at the ceiling again. We were quiet for a long time, and my brain searched frantically for something to say until I suddenly just started talking. "I know your last experience with the hunters wasn't something you want to talk about; hell, I barely wanted to talk about it. But if you ever need someone to talk to, even if it's a bunch of bullshit, I'll listen. And if you want to talk about anything else-" namely what the alphas did "-well, the offer still stands."

She was quiet for a moment, most likely thinking over what I said, but eventually whispered, "Thanks Stiles."

"Anytime," I replied quietly. She may have been joking and teasing me all night, acting like her usual, she-bitch self, but I could see the underlying fear and worry in her eyes, and I just wanted to put the offer on the table. It was up to her whether or not she took it.

We lay like that for a while, just listening to AAR, not saying a word. A part of me wanted to break the silence, and I nearly did, but a much stronger part fought it and I actually managed to stay quiet. So, it was Erica who broke the silence.

"They wanted him to suffer," she said quietly. I turned to stare at her, but her brown eyes were locked on the ceiling. "I was ignored for the first few days, so I figured they had gotten bored with Boyd when they started in on me, but I realized they were just screwing with his mind." Her eyes narrowed, and she brushed her hair out of her face. "I don't know why they let us go, just like I'll never completely understand why Argent let us go, but I don't ever want to be a victim again."

"You won't be," I said quietly, taking her hand. "Because you're my Catwoman, and Batman always comes for Catwoman."

She snorted, turning to look at me. "That was so cheesy."

"Hey, Derek isn't the only one who can say cheesy crap," I defended myself, slapping myself in the forehead. I had just shared way too much information. Derek was going to kill me.

"Cheesy crap, eh?" she teased, grinning. "What sort of cheesy crap?"

"Forget I said anything," I grumbled letting her hand go, my face burning red. I sat up, "I should finish my homework."

"I'm just kidding," Erica said pulling me back down next to her. "Jeez Stiles, you need to lighten up." I threw her a look, and she smiled. "I'm just glad he found someone. That man seriously needs to get laid."

"Shut up," I said hitting her with my pillow, my face even redder if that was even possible.

"Aw, Stiles, you're so cute when you're embarrassed." I hit her again and she pushed me off the bed.

"Bitch," I whispered picking myself up, off the floor.

"That's my breed don't wear it out," she retorted grinning. I needed new friends.

**TW**

"Lydia told me," Danny said the next day, coming up behind me.. He hadn't been in school the last two days after he messed his knee up in practice, and now he was donning crutches again. I really hoped he wasn't benched the rest of the season; he was our best goalie.

"Told you what?" I replied, looking at him from around my locker door, raising my eyebrows, faking innocence.

"Oh come on," he replied leaning in so only I could hear him (and any werewolves that happened to be close by), "_you_ know what."

"Sorry Danno, I have no clue what you are talking about," I retorted shutting my locker door. "But the thing I have no clue what you are talking about only happened once. I haven't seen 'you know who' since then."

"Is he avoiding you? Was your kissing bad?"

"Why does everyone…?" I sighed in frustration, shaking my head. "He's been busy," I said easily keeping pace with Danny as we walked down the hallway.

"So, what happened exactly?"

It felt like we were two, gossiping freshmen girls, and I very nearly evaded the subject, but I saw the look of genuine interest on Danny's face and I sighed and recapped what happened in my room, skipping over the werewolf talk.

"So that's where…?" he pointed at my slowly fading scratches.

"Yeah, the guy needs to cut his fingernails," I responded helping Danny maneuver through the crowded hallway.

"Does your dad know?" Danny asked curiously as we stopped outside his English class.

"Not yet," I replied glancing at my feet. "I haven't really thought about what to say to him. I don't think 'hey Dad, Derek and I are kinda, sorta dating. Let's go get pizza' will go over well with him."

"You need to tell him, Stiles, and before anyone else does." I nodded just as the bell rang. Danny smiled and said, "See ya at lunch."

"Yeah," I responded smiling back. I turned, slowly heading down the hallway to Pre-Calculus, thinking over what Danny said. I know I had to tell my dad, I couldn't let anyone else do it for me. I had already kept so much from him; this didn't need to be another thing. Now, I just had to think of the best way to break it to him. Easier said than done, Stiles.

**TW**

After school, I met up with Boyd. He was my guard for tonight, and I actually preferred him to the others. He was quiet, didn't feel the need to fill the silence with noise (that was my job), and kind of reminded me of Derek. Plus, he wasn't unintentionally trying to steal my best friend, talking nonstop about Allison, scowling out the window, or teasing me. He was the perfect puppy.

"How was your day?" I asked as we drove back to my house.

"Long," he answered leaning against the passenger door. He looked wiped out; all the wolves looked wiped out. They had been patrolling nonstop for three nights. If the puppies were getting very little sleep I would bet money that Derek was getting even less. I really hoped these hunters were caught soon.

"Any luck with the hunters?"

"No," he replied closing his eyes.

"You could always try a tracking spell," I suggested shrugging. I waited for Boyd to respond, but I was greeted by silence. I turned my head, finding him passed out against the window. Well, so much for a vigilant guard.

When I pulled into my driveway, I turned my jeep off, removed the keys, took a deep breath, and nudged Boyd. I waited a beat, and when he didn't stir I nudged him again. This time, when he twitched, I wrenched my door open. I nudged him a third time, he moved, and I was out of the jeep in a flash.

"What the hell?" he grumbled, sitting up, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we?"

"My house, big guy," I replied glancing into the jeep from the outside. "You wanna get out or finish your nap?" He muttered something I didn't quite catch, but opened the door. I grabbed my bag, just as he did, and we simultaneously closed our doors. "I was thinking about ordering…" I trailed off when I realized Boyd had stopped walking.

"What?" I turned to see him staring at my house, his eyebrows furrowed. "Is someone inside?" I asked suddenly worried. My dad usually came home during his lunch break. Did they do something to him? Was he alright? Did I need to call an ambulance? And why wasn't I asking these questions out loud. "Boyd," I snarled nudging his shoulder, needing to know what I had to do, who I had to call, and whether or not my father was okay.

"Derek's here," Boyd finally said and I felt a wave of relief rush through me. "He didn't say anything about…?"

"Is he okay?" I asked suddenly worried again.

"He's fine, it's just…"

"Let's go see what he wants," I said moving towards my front door. Boyd was a few steps behind me, no doubt looking around for any threats. I unlocked the door, waited until we were both inside, and closed it behind us.

"Help yourself to whatever," I informed the werewolf, starting towards the stairs. Boyd ignored my offer, staying on my heels, and followed me upstairs.

When I opened my bedroom door, I couldn't help smiling. It seemed, while he was waiting for me, Mr. Big, Bad Alpha passed out on my bed. Fighting the urge to take a picture, I turned to Boyd and asked, "You wanna wake him up or should I?"

"I'm awake," Derek said softly, his eyes still closed.

"_Sure_ you are, Sourwolf," I teased grinning at the glare he threw me. It hardly had any heat behind it, almost like he wasn't putting any effort into the look. He must be tired or just so infatuated by my awkwardness; whichever.

"Erica is waiting around the corner for you. You can go," Derek said to Boyd, sitting up. My stomach clenched at the angry, dark circles under his eyes and the haggard look on his face. Yep, he was definitely getting less sleep than his betas.

"Do you need me to patrol?" Boyd asked curiously.

"No, Scott and Isaac are handling it tonight," Derek replied standing up, rolling his shoulders. "Just head home. I'll call you later." Boyd nodded and walked out of my room. I had to give Derek some credit; at least his betas knew how to use the door.

"Did you miss me?" I asked the moment I knew Boyd was gone. Derek threw me a tired look but still nodded. "Aw, he really does like me." I grinned at the half-hearted scowl he threw at me. "Not gonna lie, Der, you look like shit." He threw me another scowl. "I only say it out of love."

I slowly crossed the room, easily pushing him back down on my bed. "Maybe you should get some more sleep," I suggested sitting next to him. "I doubt an hour or two will kill you."

"I can't sleep," he replied quietly. "Not until these hunters are gone."

"And you can't help any of us if you're dead on your feet," I countered giving him a pointed look. "Like I said, an hour or two won't kill you."

"You're bossy," he grumbled softly, but still lying back down.

"Nah, I'm just always right," I retorted leaning over him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Haven't you learned that already?" He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep again, his already loose grip slackening against me. I counted the slow, steady beats of his heart, until I, too, drifted off.

I was barely asleep an hour, quite possibly two, when I was jolted awake by a familiar voice exclaiming, "What the hell is going on here?!" I sat up quickly, cracking my head against Derek's, glancing over at my open bedroom door. My dad stood in the threshold, both hands on his hips, angrily watching us through narrowed eyes. I guess now was as good a time as any to tell him.

"Hey, Dad," I started rubbing my aching head, "I think we need to talk." At least one good thing happened; Mrs. Greene didn't tell him.


	12. The Jig is Up, The News is Out

**A huge, huge, mega huge thanks to my reviewers: Rae, No pen names left, cancoolcandy, Jerry1492, Kieron77, Sterwolf59, random-nasha, Mayonese, and Tleighblack. You guys are awesome. And thanks for alerting and favoriting last chapter.**

**So, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this, and I do not own these characters.**

**Leave me a comment if you can**

* * *

My dad paced back and forth across the living room floor, muttering under his breath, shooting furtive glances at us as he walked past the couch. Derek and I shared our own, quick look, unsure exactly what to say. Yes, I wasn't sure what to say. This was all happening so suddenly, I hadn't exactly had time to come up with a speech.

But I had to try. I am Stiles, I hate awkward silences, they must be filled at all cost. So, I opened my mouth and said, "Dad, I…"

He waved his hand, cutting me off, and his pacing sped up. I waited exactly six seconds before trying again, but he beat me to the punch. He stopped, gesturing between us, raising his eyebrows, and demanded, "How long has this been going on?"

"Uh…" I closed my eyes, doing some quick calculations. I opened them, glanced at Derek, and asked, "Four days? Yes," I looked back at my dad, "four days, but if it helps any we were friends two months beforehand. So, it's not like we jumped into relationship on a whim. We got to know each other, created a relationship bubble." I made a circular motion with my hand. "Became one with…"

Both my dad and Derek scowled at me (holy crap I actually flinched) and I shut up. My dad was quiet for a moment, looking around the room. He then started pacing again, but much slower, his face pensive, before suddenly stopping and saying, "Okay, here's the deal. If this is going to happen," he gestured between us again, "there is going to be some ground rules."

"Dad," I began to protest, but he waved his hand, cutting me off.

"One) Derek will be gone by ten on weeknights and by mid-night on weekends. Two) whenever he is here, your bedroom door stays open. Three) I reserve the right to check on you every hour when I am here and every half an hour when I am not. Four) if, on the nights I am not here, I call and you do not answer the phone after the second ring I will drive home and personally kick Derek out, and he will not be allowed back here. And five) I reserve the right to change or alter any of these rules as I see fit.

"If you break any of these rules, Derek will not be allowed back here. Do I make myself clear?" My dad put his hands on his hips, looking down at us. I was very much aware of Derek nodding next to me, so I bit down on the retort I wanted to make and nodded, too. My dad was just looking out for me, I couldn't be mad at…

"And no sex," he said suddenly, pointing at both of us.

"Dad, it's only been four days. We haven't even gone on a date, yet," I responded quickly, my face burning red; the fact that Derek's face looked as red as mine felt made me feel better, but not by much.

"I don't care," my dad stated. "You are seventeen, he's twenty-three. In California the legal consent age is eighteen…"

"I know," I grumbled crossing my arms, leaning back into the couch. "And we're not having sex." At least now we weren't because one glance at Derek, still red faced, told me he agreed with my father. Damn it.

My dad was quiet for a moment, mulling over what I had just said, and finally he nodded, looked down at Derek, and asked, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Uh, yeah," Derek replied warily, glancing over at me. My dad nodded again before heading into the kitchen, mentioning something about seeing what we had to eat.

Derek and I were quiet for a moment, but I finally said, "Wow." I was expecting more death threats, maybe a gunshot wound or two. We got off relatively light. Or, I should say, Derek got off relatively light. I was stuck being a virgin until my eighteenth birthday. Yippy Skippy.

"Yeah," he replied nodding. He turned to me, leaned in, and murmured, "I think I'm in love with your dad." He grinned.

"Shut up," I said pushing his head away from mine. He could be such an ass sometimes.

**TW**

After a semi-awkward dinner, we gathered in the living room to watch TV. My dad sat in the recliner, his attention torn between watching Sport's Center and glancing over at Derek and me. There wasn't much point, Derek lasted all of ten minutes before he passed out, slumped against me, his head resting on my shoulder. I should have totally taken a picture.

"You could have told me," my dad said softly, his eyes locked on the TV. "I would have understood. I mean, I don't particularly like your taste in guys, but…"

"Dad," I replied quietly.

He looked over at me, giving me a small smile. "I'm _just_ saying there are other guys, guys your own age…"

"I don't want another guy," I stated honestly, looking down at my sleeping Sourwolf.

"I mean Danny…"

"Now you're starting to sound like Lydia," I mumbled looking up to meet my dad's eyes. "And Danny and I are just friends."

"Apparently you and Derek were friends…"

"Dad." I threw him a look and he put his hands up, surrendering. "Besides, I tried telling you. It's not _my_ fault you didn't believe me."

"No, you were trying to distract me," my dad corrected, giving me a knowing smile. He still thought we were helping Danny that night at the club. God, I hated lying to him.

"Semantics," I muttered, my eyes flicking to the television.

"Does he make you happy?" My father asked offhandedly.

The question caught me off guard. Did Derek make me happy? Had this been last year, around the time I had first met him, I would have said no. Derek Hale, beta, was the most infuriating person on the planet. He was always grumpy, angry, irritated, or demanding. He shoved me into walls, threatened to rip my throat out, and took the prize for being Mr. Anti-Social.

Then he became Derek Hale, Alpha, and my frustration for him grew tenfold. He was still a big frigging grump, still angry, still irritated, still demanding, but he went through some weird, borderline bipolar stage, or some very dizzying mood swings. He also abused his Alpha status, trying to train a bunch of teenagers for an upcoming war. A war, might I add, that he had not told them about; no, Peter, of all people, had to drop the bomb on Isaac who told Scott and me. So, yeah, a year ago, the answer would have been a big, fat no.

But, a year ago, I didn't know _this_ Derek, the one passed out against me. Once he pulled his head out of his ass, took his Alpha duties seriously, he actually became a better leader. He still made mistakes, we _all_ made mistakes, but they weren't nearly as dire as they had been a year ago. He also didn't shove me into walls anymore, didn't threaten me, he smiled more, I made him laugh on more than one occasion. He treated his pack with more respect, too. And I mean everyone; even Alison. Though, it's only because Scott kept bringing her around, and he's had to reluctantly accept that they were a packaged deal. I think, as he slowly let the anger die down, allowed more people into his life, stopped being so damn emotionally stunted, he was actually become a better person. And that Derek, the new Derek, made me very happy.

"Yes," I finally said, nodding. "He makes me happy."

Don't get me wrong. He had a long way to go before he was even remotely normal. He had lost his entire family because his first love was a crazy, psychotic bitch. He was stuck living with his sister's murderer after killing him and then being a major catalyst in his return. He still went through his freaky mood swings (though not as bad as they had been), and there was a chance he was still, very slightly, emotionally stunted. But I wouldn't ever try to change him because I liked him the way he was, and, dating me or not, he'd probably try to kill me.

**TW**

I think the other werewolves were beginning to get suspicious. Except Erica because we all know Erica already knew, and I suspected Boyd knew, too, but I couldn't be sure; maybe Isaac.

Okay, so let me rephrase, I think Scott was starting to get suspicious. Every time he saw me, he'd eye me curiously, linger a little too long when we parted ways, even sniffed me once. He was the same with Derek. Did we permanently smell like each other? Maybe his scent intertwined with mine; like a big, Sterek air freshener. I wonder what that would smell like; probably crazy and brooding.

My poor, oblivious friend was slowly, ever so slowly putting the pieces together. I suspected Isaac and Alison were helping him along, but again I couldn't be sure. Though it made me wonder just how many people actually _knew_ about Derek and me?

Finally, Scott cornered me outside the school, a week after my dad found out. He looked terrible, almost as bad as Derek. They still hadn't found the hunters, but they did ask Deaton about my suggestion. He said unless we had something of the hunters', a tracking spell wouldn't do us much good. So, yeah, we were back to square one. The only good thing about these hunters was, unless he was patrolling, Derek was generally my guard. And he had gotten pretty acquainted with my roof, since I kept shoving him out my window when my dad checked on me. He may have fallen off one time, but he was fine; I swear.

"Hi," I greeted Scott, juggling my keys in my hand. Tonight Derek was patrolling with Boyd, so I was waiting for Erica. "What's up?"

"Has there been something going on between you and Derek?" Look at you, Scotty, being all blunt and what not. Someone should give you a medal.

"What?" I gave him a curious look, furrowing my eyebrows. "Who said that?"

"It's just, you two constantly smell like each other…"

"In case you haven't noticed, Scott, I've had a bunch of werewolves over the past few weeks. The hunters are still out there…"

"Yeah, I know," he replied quickly. "Believe me, I know, but you don't smell like anyone else; at least, not as strongly. I mean you practically reek of Derek and he smells just like you."

"Scott…" It was the moment of truth. Did I let my friend in on the secret, or the _not so_ secret (because apparently everyone else freaking knew), or should I just lie and tell him it was nothing. Well, the latter option was out right away; he'd know I was lying.

"Look," he continued when I neglected to answer him, "Isaac told me _not_ to worry about it. That it wasn't my business…"

"Well, he's right," I muttered crossing my arms. So Isaac knew, too. Again I wondered how many of my friends actually knew, and I made a mental note to ask at the next pack meeting.

"But if he's forcing…"

Wait what? "Okay, hold on a minute," I snapped cutting him off. "Forcing me to do what exactly? Have sex with him?"

"God no," Scott said quickly, but his flustered face told me a different story. "I…I just…"

"Just what, Scott?" I uncrossed my arms, placing them on my hips, giving him a pointed look. "Just sticking your nose into other people's business?"

"No, I…"

"And so what is we're dating. What's it to you?" There I told him. He could do whatever he wanted with the information.

"B-but you _hate_ Derek," he pointed out exasperated. He wasn't questioning my sudden interest in guys. No, he was more preoccupied with my feelings for Derek. It made me wonder just how long I had been projecting my bisexuality. It's not like I had been hiding it, far from it, but it wasn't something I generally told people. Maybe Scott was more perceptive than I gave him credit for.

"That shows just how much you've been paying attention the past two months," I countered loudly. "You," I poked him in the chest, "haven't been around. You," I poked him a second time, "have your new best friend and Alison. You," I poked him a third time, this time knocking him back a step, "don't get to butt into my life. Do," poke, "I," poke, "make," poke, "myself," poke, "clear?" I walked around him, moving towards my jeep, but Scott grabbed my arm and turned me around.

"Dude, what's your problem?" I snapped glaring at him.

"Stiles, talk to me," he said quietly. "I mean a few weeks ago you were moping around, and now you're dating Derek? Just, if he's, you know…"

"He's not," I snarled yanking my arm out of his loose grip. I spotted Erica walking towards us, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I quietly said, "It's not your business, what goes on between Derek and me. It's ours." I then stalked away, moving towards my vehicle.

I know, my reaction didn't help debunk Scott's theory in the slightest, but I was just so angry at what he was implying. Derek wouldn't ever, ever do that. In fact, it was me he had to watch out for. I had tested his boundaries a couple times, and he very nearly gave into me, but in the end he had taken control and made me stop. He's such a prude.

I got to my jeep just as Erica did. She gave me a worried look, I shrugged my shoulders, she put her hand on my arm, I nodded, and we got in my vehicle. Weird, I know, but I've been spending a lot of time with her, as well as Danny and Lydia. We were bound to pick up some strange habits. I could do the same thing with Danny and Lydia, too. And I used to be able to do that with Scott.

I drove to my house in silence while Erica tried to bring me out of my shell. Well, it was nice and warm in my shell, leave me alone Erica. After a while, I finally had enough of her useless small talk, and asked, "How many people know about Derek and me?"

"What?" she raised one eyebrow, giving me a curious look.

"You heard me," I stated pulling into my driveway. "How many people know? I know you do, Lydia does, Danny…" I made a gesturing motion with my hand, "Anyone else?"

"Um," she was quiet for a moment, an uncomfortable look crossing her face. "We've all known for a while," she admitted after a short pause. "It seems Scott was the only one in denial." So she confirmed my suspicions. That was just great.

I got out of my jeep, fuming, and stormed towards my house only to freeze. Someone had written on my door. In bright, red paint were the words: _We Are Coming For You_.


	13. The 'Twelfth-Letter' Word

**First, I would like to thank my awesome, awesome, awesome reviewers: No pen names left, Jerry1492, Mayonese, Kieron77, random-nasha, Sterwolf59, and flthyltlscrt. You guys are the main reason this story is so awesome to write. And also thanks to any new alerters and favoriters.**

**Second, I know this isn't really turning out to be a very good love story. I mean, it is, but it's not on the warm and fuzzy side. I angsted all over it. I am just not meant to write fluff.**

**Third, sorry for the cliffe.**

**And fourth, thanks for reading, I don't own what is not mine, and leave me a comment if you can.**

**See ya!**

* * *

Who knew five words could do so much damage? Erica called Derek the moment we found the message, and I swear he broke over two dozen traffic laws to get here in less than ten minutes. The guy had a fricking death wish.

The moment he parked his car, he, Isaac, and Boyd got out. He was across the yard and at my side in a second, checking me over, running his hands down my arms. "Are you okay?" he demanded glaring at the words as if they threatened _him_. No, buddy, they threatened me.

"I'm fine," I answered softly, trying very hard _not_ to look at the words painted across my door. I wasn't scared, far from it actually (we've killed things ten times more dangerous and powerful than a couple hunters), but I wasn't exactly Mr. Calm and Collected either. I was pissed, beyond pissed, furious. These bastards befouled _my_ house; they threatened me (and _my _father by default). I wanted them gone and I really didn't care how the pack took care of them.

I was dragged into the house by Derek, listening as he snapped at Boyd and Isaac to get a hold of the rest of the pack. Erica followed on our heels, waiting for Derek to give her an order, looking worried.

"Pack some stuff," Derek said the moment we burst into my room.

"Excuse me?" I rounded on him, wrenching my arm out of his grasp. "I'm not being run out of my home by a couple of douchebag speciesists! I'm not leaving my father here to fend for himself when he has no fucking clue what is going on!" His eyes flashed red. "And don't even try any of that Alpha crap on me, Derek! It won't work and you know it!"

"Stiles," he said softly, desperation in his voice. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. He was scared, I could tell, and his number one priority was to get me to safety. That shouldn't be his number one priority. It should be rallying the troops, putting up a fight, making sure his pack was going to survive this battle. I should only be a blip on his radar, nothing more. Oh, why did we have to start dating; this was so much easier when we were mildly displeased with each other.

Had it been up to Derek, he would have thrown me over his shoulder, taken me down the stairs, and driven me to the train depot to lock me up until the threat passed. Had I given him the option, he would have handcuffed himself to me so I couldn't go anywhere without him (not that he would; I'm just spit balling ideas here). Had it been up to him, he probably never would have returned to Beacon Hills, met me, and started this relationship (okay, I'll admit, the last one was a mutual thing, but you get what I mean).

But life is a fickle bitch sometimes, and things don't always go as planned. He knew he couldn't lock me away. My dad would go nuts trying to find me and I'd attempt to escape regardless of if it was futile or not (besides, I stand by what I said before; I am not leaving my dad alone to face this). I would not let him handcuff himself to me because as much as I _liked_ him, as much as I loved having him around, seeing him every single second of every single day would drive me absolutely crazy. And he _had_ come back to this crazy-ass town, he _had_ met me, and he _had_ entered into a relationship with the town's danger magnet. It all happened, he couldn't control it. Life sucks sometimes.

Derek sighed, still leaning against me, and softly said to Erica, "Go get Allison and Lydia. We're staying here."

**TW**

Since I refused to go into hiding, my guard had been amped up to two wolves. One would sit inside, with me, while the other patrolled outside. I felt like a frigging prisoner in my own home. At school, I found myself with an entourage; even Danny sensed something was up and he wasn't even in the loop.

Before the werewolves, before my life took an unexpected turn and landed me in Fuckedville, population the utterly screwed, I sometimes wondered what it'd be like to be surrounded by friends. I was a fool to wonder; solitude was _so_ much better.

Don't get me wrong, I love my friends, they each bring something different to the table, to our impromptu _family, _and I know they just wanted to protect me, but just like with Derek, I didn't want them around twenty-four seven. It was too much. That was the one thing I loved about my dad. He knew when I needed him and when I needed him to _not_ hover. I wished my friends would get the damn memo.

The night before the full moon, Lydia and I were working on homework at my kitchen table. She had insisted she come over, had even offered to teach me a few of her 'magic tricks,' and I had agreed just to shut her up. Besides, it sure beat spending the night hanging with one of the Betas (Derek taking up full time patrol duty now, and seriously, the last time I saw him, he looked about ready to pass out); they were almost as snippy as Derek had been as a Beta.

"That's wrong," Lydia's voice dragged me back to reality.

"What happened?" I looked over at her and she rolled her eyes.

"That," she jabbed her index finger at my math homework, "is wrong." She started explaining why it was wrong, but I tuned her out, my eyes settling on Isaac. He was pacing back and forth across the foyer, half listening to us and half listening outside for Boyd. I couldn't see Boyd, he was better at the whole 'stealth' thing than Derek, but I knew he was somewhere out there; he was also a sniper rifle away from being a prison guard.

For a moment, as I watched Isaac move lithely across the hardwood floor, I wondered what my life would be like if Scott had never been bitten. I'd have normal friends for one and a normal relationship. I wouldn't be living in constant fear for my life, my friends' lives, Derek's life, and, more importantly, my father's life. I wouldn't have to worry about lizard people trying to kill me, either, or Alphas ripping my throat out. I guaran-freaking-tee it, my life would be a hell of a lot simpler. I would just be Stiles; awkward, geeky Stiles who would go to school, get good grades, get accepted into a good college, and get the hell out of Beacon Hills. It would also be boring as hell, but sometimes I missed the boring. Where did you go boring? Come back to me!

Isaac suddenly stopped, catching me by surprise, his eyes darting to my front door. I watched as his ears elongated, could hear him growl as he crouched down. When a howl echoed from outside, rattling the soda glasses Lydia and I had been using, Isaac snarled over his shoulder, "Stay here," and tore out of my house, slamming the front door behind him.

I stood, rushing towards the door, instinctually locking it as I looked out the tiny window next to it, but I didn't see anything.

"What's going on out there?" Lydia asked quietly, standing directly behind me, scaring the crap out of me. Seriously, could _everyone_ sneak up on me? That's just a load of crap.

"I don't know," I answered, my voice harsher than usual, holding a hand over my erratically beating heart. "I can't see…" something slammed into the window, and I jolted back, stepping on Lydia's foot.

She opened her mouth to shout, or possibly yell at me, but I turned around and wrapped a hand around her mouth, quietly said, "Shh."

"What is it?" she whispered against my hand, her warm breath puffing against my palm.

"I don't…" something slammed against the door, cutting me off, rattling it against its hinges. "Upstairs," I shouted, letting Lydia go. I grabbed her hand, dragging her towards the stairs, listening as the door rattled again.

We burst into my room, and I closed the door behind us. Letting Lydia go, I raced towards my dresser, digging out my Mountain Ash. I was running low, should probably ask Deaton for some more, but filed that away for later as I began laying a thin layer down across my bedroom door and window.

As I debated whether or not to call Derek, who could easily be outside right now, I was very much aware of Lydia muttering under her breath, her eyes closed. At first, for some strange reason, I actually thought she was praying until I heard the Latin.

"Are you doing magic?" I asked glancing out my bedroom window.

Instead of answering me, she said, "Give me your Mountain Ash."

Mutely, my eyebrows raised, I handing over the last of my stash. She took it, just as the door downstairs crashed open, banging loudly against the wall, and moved towards my door.

She muttered something I couldn't quite make out before tossing the Mountain Ash onto my door. For a split second, though I could have easily been seeing things, it flashed blue. Lydia then moved away from it, back to me, her eyes slowly changing from white to green again. Okay, that was a little weird.

"What did you do?" I glanced at her, but she didn't respond.

It was quiet for a moment, but the silence was broken by a pair of footsteps moving up the stairs. They slowly headed towards my room, stopping right outside the door. Blindly, I reached out, my hand wrapping around the metal bat I had started stashing against my wall. If I was going down, I was going down swinging.

My door handle turned, and I tightened the grip on my bat. I was waiting, breath held, for something to happen; for Lydia's magic trick to work. As the door slowly opened, I stepped forward to take a swing, but stopped when I heard a shout of surprise and a body slam into the wall opposite my room.

"What was that?" I asked slowly, looking at Lydia with wide eyes.

"Standard attack spell," she replied quietly, still eyeing the door. "It blows back anyone who tries to open the door from the outside."

"Deaton taught you that?" I raised my eyebrows.

"No," she admitted with a grim smile, "I've been doing some practicing on my own." She looked at me, "I'm…"

"…yeah, scary, I get it," I finished for her as I slowly moved towards the door. I grabbed the knob, bracing myself for any blowback, just in case what Lydia told me wasn't fully true, and wrenched the door open to reveal… Isaac.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded picking himself up, off the floor. He had left a crack in the drywall (there was no way I could explain that to my dad), and he was rubbing his head with a bloody arm.

"Never mind that," I answered quickly, putting my bat down. "What the hell happened out there? Are you and Boyd okay?"

"We're fine," he replied, but I saw something in his eyes.

"What?" I tried to staunch the worry that was forming in my stomach. Had someone been hurt? Did we need to call Deaton? What happened and why wasn't he telling me anything? And, again, why was I not saying these things out loud?

"Derek bit one of them," Isaac finally said after a long pause, running a hand through his hair.

"So, we're dealing with a werewolf?" I questioned slowly, feeling Lydia grab my hand.

"Yeah."

"That's just great." I muttered leaning my head back, blowing out a mouthful of air. More werewolves, just what I needed. This week was just getting better and better.

"Stiles," I heard a familiar voice call, and I was bombarded by a pair of arms and the familiar scent of the woods. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I muttered feeling Derek bury his face in my hair. "I'm just fine."

"Are you sure?" another voice said, and I looked up to see Scott lingering by the staircase, an awkward and uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Was the whole pack out there?" I asked Derek, ignoring Scott's question. I was still pissed off at him, and I wasn't ready to forgive him _just_ yet.

"Yeah, Erica and Boyd are making sure they're gone and Jackson is downstairs," Isaac replied and I felt Lydia let me go and race down the stairs. I tried to pull away from Derek, but he held on tighter, being careful not to cut off my airways.

"We'll be downstairs," Isaac informed us and walked towards Scott, pulling him down the steps. I could tell he didn't want to go, but he reluctantly allowed Isaac to take him away.

"I'm fine," I said softly. "You can let go now." I thought, for a second, he wasn't going to listen to me, but Derek nodded and let me go. I took a step back and asked, "Are you okay?" He nodded, still watching me, looking like he was about to kill anyone who tried touching me.

"Did you really bite one of them?" I asked after a lengthy pause.

"I don't really remember _doing_ it," he admitted crossing his arms, worry and guilt flickering in his eyes.

"This isn't your fault," I stated slowly, frustration rolling through me, resting my hands on his shoulders. "Do you understand me? This. Is. Not. Your. Fault." He still looked skeptical, but nodded anyway. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "You really look like crap." And he did; dark, purple circles under bloodshot eyes, a haggard look on his face, messy, unkempt hair. The man needed sleep like yesterday.

"Glad you noticed," he deadpanned, his lips turning up. He frowned suddenly, his face taking on its usual broody pout, and he said, "Stiles, I can't…"

"I'm not running," I whispered meeting his eyes. "You can't make me run."

"I know, but…"

"No buts. I may only be a lowly human without any supernatural powers, but I am not running away." I hadn't meant to say that, and I know it bothered Derek by the way his frown deepened and his eyebrows furrowed.

"You are not a lowly human, Stiles," he said slowly, softly, and I noticed something flicker in his eyes, something I couldn't quite pinpoint. "You'll never be a lowly human. You're the strongest person I've ever met."

"Oh, I don't know about…" his lips found mine, effectively cutting me off. The kiss was soft, gentle, and ended way too soon. "What was that for?" I asked curiously.

Derek merely quirked an eyebrow and said, "I'm going to make sure they're really gone. I'll see you later." I watched him walk away, leaning against my bedroom doorway, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Either that burrito was disagreeing with me or I was more _in like_ with Derek than I realized. Huh, that's something I should totally look into… after the hunter/werewolf was taken care of; until then, I'll just lay off the burritos for a while.

**TW**

The following morning, Derek was waiting in my driveway when Isaac and I left the house. This was a first, he generally didn't drive me to school, and I had a feeling it was because of the hunter/werewolf and the fact that there was a full moon tonight.

"I'm getting a ride with Scott," Isaac said when I made to move towards Derek's car. "I'll see you at school."

"Okay," I replied and we parted ways. As I got in the Camaro, I waved at Isaac and put my seatbelt on. "This is a first," I commented glancing over at Derek.

"Surprise," he muttered backing out of my driveway.

For a while he was quiet, his eyes locked on the road, unreadable behind his sunglasses. I tried to spark a conversation or two, it's in my nature, but he wasn't going to talk, so I stopped trying. I looked out the window, very much aware of the fact that we weren't driving in the direction of the school.

"Where are we going?" I demanded glaring at him. He didn't reply, and I felt anger pulse through me. "Pull over." He ignored me. "Pull over," I said louder, and again, he ignored me. "Derek, pull the fucking car over." I reached for the steering wheel, and he tried to stop me, the car swerving, the tires screeching as he stomped on the brakes.

"Stiles, what the hell!" he shouted turning to face me.

"Didn't you listen to me last night," I snarled clenching my hands into fists.

"Yeah, I heard you," he said softly, "but I don't agree."

"So, you stage a kidnapping?!" I exclaimed throwing my hands in the air. "Look, that's a stupid idea even if my dad wasn't the sheriff. And I'm not going to be the reason you become a felony. Not again."

"Stiles, you don't understand…"

"I get it, okay? You're scared this guy is going to hurt me. Believe me, I get it, but this isn't the solution. He'll find me. He'll use whatever he has to, to get me to come out of hiding, even if that means using my dad. I'm not going to be the reason another parent dies, Derek." My eyes stung, my vision blurring as I looked away from him; stupid allergies. "I-I can't be."

"And I can't lose anyone else that I love," he said softly, opting to ignore my outburst about my mother. He had already tried to convince me it wasn't my fault she died, but I was just too stubborn to listen…

Wait what?

"Love?" I looked up at him again, furrowing my eyebrows. "What…?"

"I've lost everyone, Stiles. My family, my sister, my old life…" he trailed off, biting his lip. "Don't make me lose you, too. I can't lose you, too. I love you, Stiles."

Whoa, whoa, whoa! He _whats _me? Did he want me to say it back? Was I ready to say it back? I mean, my stomach did the warm and fuzzy thing last night. I always found myself thinking about him, and don't get me started on some of those dreams I had. Everything was better when he was around, and I missed him when he wasn't with me.

So, I'm pretty sure it wasn't the burrito.

"Derek, I…" Something smashed into my side of the car, cutting my words off, sending it onto its side. I felt my arm slam into the dash, feeling it snap on impact, screaming in pain. The car was hit again, jarring my arm, and the last thing I heard was my name before I passed out.


	14. Confessions and Traps

**Hey guys! First, let me thank my reviewers: random-nasha, flthyltlscrt, Jerry1492, mistersilver, Kieron77, and Sterwolf. You guys rock! And thanks to the any new alerters and favoriters.**

**Second, I'm predicting probably two or three more chapters to go before this story is done. So, fair warning, the ending is coming. I am just as sad as you guys are.**

**Third, this ends with another cliffe, so I am sorry for that.**

**And fourth, thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you can, and I do not own what is not mine.**

**See ya!**

* * *

When I came to, probably twenty to thirty minutes later, I was hanging in mid-air, my right side and arm killing me. I was aware of a siren sounding in the background, of people trying to get the door off the car, to get me out, and I was also aware of the missing werewolf that had once been next to me.

The windshield had a Derek sized hole in it, so I am assuming he either flew out of it or whoever hit us (and I'm going to assume it was either the werewolf/hunter or one of his cronies) pulled him out. It also dawned on me, had the werewolf/hunter or his cronies taken Derek, that there was a good chance that message wasn't meant for me. This was not good; this was so not good.

Once I was taken from the car, I was loaded into an ambulance, with one of those fricking neck braces strapped around my neck, and driven to the hospital. The whole ride I was in pain and freaking out. They took Derek; those assholes took Derek. Why did they take him again? What was their motivation? And how long did we have to find him until they…?

No, no I wouldn't think that way. He was going to be fine. We were going to find him, alive, and he was going to be fine. Or he'd escape again. He did it once before; he could do it again. I had complete faith in my Sourwolf.

It was a while later, after my doctor deemed it safe enough for me to take off the neck brace, while I was getting a cast put on my arm, that my dad was allowed back to see me. He hugged me, tight, and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dad," I said softly.

"He'll be fine," my doctor stated, just repeating exactly what I said. "Just some bruised ribs and his arm will be out of commission for a few weeks, but it was a clean break; shouldn't require surgery."

"How did this happen?" my dad asked me the moment the doctor left the room, taking a seat next to me.

I almost lied, almost added another layer of mistrust to my dad's already full plate, but I just couldn't. I was tired, sore, worried, angry, and a little nauseous. I was also tired of lying, so very tired, and the man I potentially love, okay, no potentially about it, was missing; had been taken by some psychotic hunter/werewolf and was having God knew what done to him. He could be…

No, he's _not_. Stop thinking like that. He wasn't dead. Yeah, if he was able to get free he would have by now. He'd be here because he would have followed my scent. He knew my scent better than anyone's, had told me this during one of our coffee shop visits, and he would have already been here; hospital staff be damned. But he wasn't; he wasn't here, and I was worried and sick and wanted him back so badly that it made my chest ache.

"Stiles," my dad said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder, and I just broke. I told him everything, right there in the ER, from Scott becoming a werewolf to the car accident barely two hours ago. I didn't care if my father believed me or not; he had to know, and I _had_ to tell him.

"A-and now he's gone, Dad," I babbled some time later, clutching tightly to a pillow. "He's gone, and I-I don't know where he i-is or who has him. W-we need to find him; _I_ need to find him." I tried to get off the bed, but the pain killers made me dizzy and my dad caught me as my legs gave out. Okay, so moving was a bad idea; good to know.

My dad helped me back onto the bed and bent down, so he could meet my eyes. He was quiet for a moment, most likely processing what I had just told him, a skeptical look battling the concern on his face. "Stiles, I…"

"He's right, Mr. Stilinski," I heard Scott say just as the curtain was pushed to the side. He walked in slowly, giving me a worried look, and turned back to my dad. "I'm a werewolf."

"Scott, I don't…" my dad turned, jolting back when Scott's eyes flashed yellow and his teeth and ears elongated. "Holy crap!"

"And we do need to find Derek," Scott continued as he shifted back to normal, his eyes flicking to me, and, in that moment, I forgave him. Don't get me wrong, I was still mad at the assumptions he made, but I would get over that eventually. "The pack is waiting at your house."

"Pack?" We nodded, and my dad looked at us like we were crazy, but he sighed, his eyes finally settling on me, and said, "What are we waiting for? Let's go find Derek."

**TW**

I wasn't aware so many people could fit in my living room. I mean, yeah it was cramped, but wow. Let's face it, the werewolves alone weren't exactly tiny, and my dad and Argent weren't exactly lightweights either. Though, let's face it, they would never compare to the werewolves muscle-wise; nobody could unless they were 'roided out of their minds. So, yeah, you can be as big as a werewolf; you just need to sacrifice your manhood.

My father and Argent were surrounded by werewolves, going over the plans for the city, trying to figure out where a bunch of speciesists would hang out. I would suggest the warehouse district (or the two abandoned warehouses outside of town), but that would just be too easy, too predictable, and _too_ clichéd. So, I didn't say anything.

While they went over plans, Lydia and Allison sat on the floor, the former digging in a huge, red bag, sorting through her magical goodies while the latter sharpened her knife. I stood behind them, taking in the commotion, but not really participating. I had my own plan brewing, one that nobody would like; especially the stubborn jackass Sourwolf we were attempting to save, but I didn't care. I was finding him whether he liked it or not; bitch fit be damned.

I opened my mouth to share this plan, but a window shattered, cutting me off, and smoke immediately began filling the room. I coughed, backing away from the couch, squinting through the wall of white. My eyes were burning, and I coughed again, just as the door flew open.

Several things happened at once. Someone shoved past me, another person yanked me to the floor, and a spray of bullets were unleashed into my living room. Before I could figure out if my dad or the others were okay, I was yanked to my feet, my hand was grabbed, and I was dragged outside.

The moment I stepped out the back door, I began coughing, but whoever was latched onto my hand wouldn't let me stop and we began sprinting away from my house. I struggled against the hold, needing to know if my dad was okay, but they wouldn't let me go and I was forced to keep going.

Finally, about six blocks from my house, they stopped and let me go. I was gasping for breath, and I bent over, my hands resting on my knees, coughing so hard it hurt my chest and side. When I was able to breathe again, I looked up to see Lydia standing a few inches from me, coughing, her eyes wide, looking back the way we had come.

"W-we need to g-go back," I whispered, coughing again, rubbing my chest.

"We can't," she said sharply, her eyes shining. "They'll be fine."

"M-my dad…"

"Mr. Argent pushed him out of the way. He's fine," Lydia replied quickly. "We need to keep going." She looked like she'd rather be back at my house, back with Jackson and the others, but instead she grabbed my hand and began dragging me down the street.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a long pause.

"Deaton's," Lydia responded periodically glancing over her shoulder. "We'll send a text message when we're sure it's safe. Let the other's know where…"

"No, we won't," I said causing Lydia to stop.

"What?" she turned to face me, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"We're going after Derek," I said and began running towards Deaton's, very much aware of the pain in my side and arm, but ignoring it nonetheless.

"What?" Lydia called after me, racing to catch up. "Stiles wait! I'm wearing the wrong shoes!"

We made it to Deaton's fifteen minutes later, both clutching stitches in our sides. I banged on the backdoor, very much aware of Lydia muttering darkly under her breath, and stepped back when the door opened. Deaton gave us a confused look, but still stepped back to let us inside.

"What happened?" he asked curiously.

"We need a tracking spell," I stated, ignoring his question.

"Stiles, I told you…"

"Yes, you can't find the hunters, but maybe you can find someone else," I countered crossing my arms as best as I could with my cast, looking up at Deaton.

"What…?"

"Oh," Lydia exclaimed her eyes widening. "You're going to…" she trailed off, biting her lip. "Would that even work?"

"What?" Deaton looked between us, clearly confused, just as the front door jingled open. "Wait here," he said moving towards the front.

The moment he was gone, Lydia rounded on me and said, "This is a stupid plan."

"I'm not letting him die," I snapped uncrossing me arms and fixing her with a glare. "If I lose him…" I looked away from her, glaring at the floor, blinking rapidly. "I may have already gotten my dad killed. I can't let Derek die, too."

"And I get that, really I do, but how do you expect _us_ to fight a werewolf? I don't know very many spells and neither of us can fight. What do you expect us to do? Beat him with sarcasm and wit?"

"Maybe I can help." As one, Lydia and I turned towards the doorway, our eyes meeting Peter's as he stood behind Deaton. "I mean, he is my nephew, and I should do more to protect him. What do you say?"

Lydia answered for both of us. She threw her hand up, muttered something, and Peter went flying, crashing into something out front. I turned to her, watching as her eyes shifted back to green, and drily said, "Good to know how you really feel, Lyd."

We walked back towards the front, stopping right behind Deaton, watching as Peter pulled himself to his feet. He smirked at Lydia, the cut on his head slowly healing, and said, "My, my look how you have grown. I knew I chose wisely for my resurrection."

"What do you want?" I snapped glaring at my least favorite alpha, crossing my arms. I wasn't going to stop Lydia if she wanted to take another crack at Peter. The psychotic jackass deserved it.

"I've come to help you find Derek," Peter replied simply, shrugging.

"Bullshit," I said and Lydia nudged him into a wall. "Real answer or we'll see just how powerful Lydia is. Maybe she'll throw you through a wall." I raised my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

He sighed and said, "If you go after this guy on your own, and get killed, I won't hear the end of it from my nephew. It's bad enough his emotions run rampant when you're not around and alive." Peter sighed, shaking his head. "Plus, he'll go back to being a Debbie Downer and nobody wants that, lest of all me."

"That's oddly _comforting_," I said sarcastically, cocking my head.

"And _not_ selfish at all," Lydia deadpanned, lowering her hand a fraction of an inch.

"I try," Peter stated smirking. "So, you have a plan?"

"Yeah," I said after a moment of silence. I turned back to Deaton and said, "Can you use people to track someone?"

"If the connection is strong enough," Deaton answered after a long pause, eyeing me warily.

"Good," I replied moving back into the exam room, hopping up onto the counter. I held my arms out and said, "Do what you need to do."

**TW**

The spell worked, sorta. We got a general location, but it was better than wandering around Beacon Hills while Peter stuck his head out of the window. I made Deaton promise to find the rest of the pack, help them as much as he could, and send along the ones able to help. I could tell he didn't think it was a good idea, Lydia and I going after Derek with Peter, but he must have known he couldn't stop us, so he agreed to find the pack and we left in Peter's car.

"Is this your nurse's car?" I asked slowly, looking around the backseat. Lydia was sitting very close to me, her eyes narrowed as they looked at the back of Peter's head, holding a bowl filled with blood and water, a pin directly in the middle, acting as a sort of compass. We had silently agreed that we weren't sitting up front with Peter no matter how much he pouted and bitched about being lonely.

"She doesn't need it," Peter answered simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, it was _just_ going to _rot _at the junkyard."

"That's sick," I responded throwing him a disgusted look.

"I _paid_ for it," he replied, defending his actions. "What kind of person would I be if _just_ stole it."

"No amount of 'goodwill' will make you a better person," Lydia retorted sharply, looking away from Peter and down at the bowl. "Take the next left."

"Yeah, Peter, any good karma you manage to scrounge up will be cancelled out by the fact that you are a heartless, psychotic asshole," I chimed in, and Lydia nodded in agreement. Peter merely threw us a 'you amuse me' smile over his shoulder and continued to drive in silence, following Lydia's instructions.

The pin led us to an old, run down bunker. Peter's eyes zeroed in on the bunker and he said, "Derek's in there alright, but so is another wolf and a human."

"Lydia…"

"I can take care of the human," she said as we got out of the car.

"I guess I've got the wolf," Peter stated taking his jacket off and stashing it on the driver seat before closing the door. He turned, noticing the looks on our faces, and said, "What? I happened to _like_ this jacket." I merely rolled my eyes, looking away from him.

I turned to head inside, but Lydia grabbed my arm and said, "Wait."

"What?" I said looking at her. She hurriedly typed the address into her phone, sending the text to Deaton, and then nodded.

"Let's go," she said lightly pushing me towards the bunker. I tripped over my feet, barely managing to stay upright, and moved forward. Peter and Lydia followed me, very close on my heels, and we stopped just outside the door.

"We could always go home," Peter suggested softly. I growled at him and threw the door open. "Just thought I'd suggest it," he stated drily but still followed me and Lydia inside. "He's not doing a very good job of hiding," Peter commented quietly, his eyes zeroing in on the corner. "In fact, I do believe he was expecting us… or, well," he looked down at me, "_you_."

"Good guess," a deep voice said and a light snapped on, illuminating the main room, the door swinging shut behind us. Great, I had just led Lydia into a trap. I am such a good friend.


	15. The Derwolf

**Hey guys. First let me thank my reviewers: Kieron77, flthyltlscrt, random-nasha, and Jerry1492. I'd give you all hugs, but there is a computer and several thousands of miles between us, so how's about another 'cyber hug'.**

**Second, there is only one more chapter left in this story, but I did start another one... which will be up when I finish this one and get a little further in it. You know, unless you don't want me to write another Sterek story.**

**So, thanks for reading, I do not own what is not mine, and leave me a comment if you can**

**See ya!**

* * *

I'm a chatty guy by nature. My father told me that, when I was younger, I used to have conversations with everyone, specifically the old people at the park. I generally did most of the talking, but you get what I mean. I use words to get my point across, whether it's needed or not. I am a ball of anxiety, sarcasm, and wit. And the more nervous I get, the more I talk, so getting my hair grabbed by a werewolf (I should have stuck with the buzz cut) and dragged across the room only unleashed the buildup of words lodged in my throat.

"Hey, watch the 'do. Do you know how long it took me to get it like this," I complained sarcastically, listening as Lydia struggled and Peter said, "Please watch the shirt. It's new." Yes, it is a little scary how much Peter and I have in common, but we are not ever going to talk about that little tid-bit.

"Shut up," the evil, werewolf/hunter growled, shaking me, sending pain up my side and through my arm. I wasn't sure who he was talking to, I was more preoccupied with his glowing eyes, so I did as I was asked. It didn't last long, just long enough for us to get thrown into a small, cramped room.

As the door closed, I stood up and said, "What? No mints on the pillows? What kind of establishment is this?" I turned to Peter and said, "Great job on fighting them, Petey. Really awe-inspiring."

"What?" he replied shrugging. "The hunter woman had a gun."

"You can heal!"

"Bullets still hurt," Peter muttered, crossing his arms, acting as if I had offended him. He's such a frigging drama queen.

I scoffed, shaking my head, turning to Lydia. "Is there a way…?"

"Stiles," I heard a groggy yet familiar voice whisper, cutting me off. "Stiles?" I turned, my eyes settling on Derek. He was chained to a wall, unfocused, green eyes locked on my face, his breathing labored. I could see a multitude of cuts and bruises across his face, blood soaked through his gray Henley and his jeans, and, my stomach somersaulted, he had a piece of glass sticking out of his side.

I was across the room in a second, kneeling down next to him, resting my hand against the side of his neck, feeling his thready pulse beat against my palm, trying not to notice his clammy skin. "Hey," I said softly, resting my forehead against his, "didn't we have some unfinished business?"

"Y-you shouldn't…" he coughed, wincing as the movement pulled on his injury. "You…"

"Of course I _shouldn't_ be here," I said quietly, closing my eyes, "but I am _here_ so I can get your little werewolf ass out of here."

"'m taller than you," Derek murmured and I could feel his breath on my face.

"By barely two inches," I protested and he chuckled once, coughing again.

"Did they give you more of that drug?" I asked curiously, opening my eyes. He nodded against my forehead and I sighed. "And I thought I was a difficult captive." I tried to ignore the worry building up in my stomach, but I knew it was a losing battle. He had a piece of glass sticking out of his side, a piece of glass that could be doing God knew what to him, and he couldn't heal it even if we pulled it out. I really, really wanted this hunter/werewolf dead.

"As touching as this reunion is," Peter drawled from across the room, "we need to come up with a plan to get out of here. I, for one, don't feel like dying… again."

"Well, maybe if you'd have fought the hunter instead of bitching about your shirt," I retorted glancing back at him. He gave me an amused look, and I scoffed looking back at Derek.

"Lydia, can you get these chains off him?" I asked pushing myself to my feet, taking my hand away from Derek's neck. I thought I heard him whimper, but that was impossible. Derek just didn't do things like that; at least not as long as I've known him.

"I can try," she said kneeling next to him. As she worked on the chains, I reluctantly crossed the room to stand next to Peter.

"Stiles," he greeted me with a small smile.

"Can you get the door open?" I asked curiously.

"I _could_ have, had his _lovely_ sidekick _not _lain mountain ash down." I nodded, staring at the door, knowing I couldn't keep relying on Lydia and her magical talents. She only _had_ so much power, and I knew we couldn't waste it on the door. Not when we might need it later. Of course, I was perfectly capable of doing magic.

If what Deaton told me was true, everybody had the potential to do magic, though some, like Lydia, had an aptitude for it; while others, like me, had to work our asses off to make it work. That was one reason why I kept blowing Deaton's offers off; I already had too much work to do, you know, being research guy, trying to keep the werewolves alive, trying to keep my sanity intact and, oh yeah, trying to keep my dad safe (my heart stuttered in my chest at the thought of my father. God I hoped he was okay). But maybe, one, tiny spell, wouldn't hurt.

Peter flashed me a knowing smile, but I ignored him as I returned to Lydia's side, just as the manacles around Derek's wrists sprang open. I kneeled down next to Lydia and whispered, "Do you know any spells that can get the door open?"

"Yeah, but I don't know how much power I have left," she answered honestly and I could see sweat on her forehead. "I used a lot back at Deaton's, plus the tracking spell, and Derek's chains…"

"You won't be doing the spell," I said softly, letting my eyes settle on Derek. He was trembling, something I hadn't noticed before, and I removed my hoodie with some difficulty, draping it around his shoulders.

"You mean you'll do the spell?" Lydia asked slowly, watching me.

"Yeah," I answered feeling my arm get grabbed.

"A-are you…?" Derek started, gently holding my casted arm, studying it closely, or, trying to, since he looked like he was having trouble focusing.

"I'm fine," I answered Derek, giving him a small smile, running my fingers through his hair. "I won't heal as quickly as you, but I'll be fine. And don't you even think about attempting to take my pain," I added, pointing at him. "You're already in enough pain." He gave me surprised look and I gave him a small smile. "I know you too well, Sourwolf."

I turned back to Lydia and said, "So, that spell?"

**TW**

"You need to concentrate," Lydia stated exasperated.

"I _am_," I snarled back.

"Well, don't strain yourself," Peter drawled in amusement, "we wouldn't want to draw them in here with the smoke pouring from your ears."

"Shut up, Peter," Lydia and I said together.

"Just thought I'd point it out," he stated raising his hands, "there's no need to bite my head off."

I tried the spell again, but I just couldn't trigger the mountain ash outside the door, and I was getting increasingly frustrated. I just couldn't seem to work the spell, worries and thoughts buzzing around my head, making me incapable of clearing it. What happened if I managed to open the door only to have Lydia and Derek get killed (and, I guess, Peter, too)? What happened if we got out of here, killed the hunter/werewolf, only for me to return home and find out my dad or one of the pack had been killed? What happened if I got killed? What happened if we were all killed? What…?

I felt someone grab my hand and heard Derek whisper, "You're thinking too loud." His hand around mine gave me something to focus on, something I really needed, and I turned back to the door.

Raising my other hand, focusing on the pressure wrapped around my fingers, I muttered the spell again. Warm tingles rolled through me, my vision went white for a moment, and my hand got very hot before rapidly cooling off. I heard a loud bang, a shrill 'what the hell,' and Peter begrudgingly admit, "Well, now _that's_ impressive."

My vision returned slowly, the hand wrapped around mine slowly bringing me back, and I grinned at the open door. I did it! I actually did it! That is so fricking cool.

"Celebrate later," Lydia said getting my attention, and I nodded, pushing myself to my feet, letting Derek's hand go. I watched as Peter shifted, heading outside, hopefully to take out the werewolf or the hunter.

"At least he's making himself useful," I commented drily as Lydia and I crouched down to get Derek off the floor. He growled in pain when Lydia grabbed the arm on his injured side, and I heard her whisper an apology.

Suddenly we heard a crash, a familiar yelp, and a growl. "Go help Peter," I said with a frustrated sigh, nodding towards the door. "I've got Derek. Go!"

"But your arm…"

"I'll be fine. Go." Lydia looked torn, but she finally nodded and pushed herself to her feet, rushing out of the room.

"Okay," I said softly, crouching down next to Derek, "we're going to do this nice and slow." I wrapped my uninjured hand around his bicep, trying to get a good grip. "Whenever you're ready, we'll stand together, okay?"

"J-just leave me," he murmured, his eyes slipping closed.

"I'm not gonna do that," I replied sharply, lightly shaking him. He winced, but his eyes opened. "I am not leaving you. You're going to get your ass up, we're going to defeat these assholes, and then Deaton is going to patch you up. You're going to be fine."

"Stiles…"

"You're going to be fine because… because I love you, too, and I won't let you die," I snapped and he looked at me in surprise. "My heart beat gave me away, didn't it? You know I'm not lying. So, help me get you up."

He nodded and together we got him to his feet. He barely held a cry of pain at bay, my stomach jolting, and he swayed back and forth, leaning into my left side. I held him up as best as I could, helping him walk towards the door.

We stopped in the doorway, very much aware of several more hunters and several more werewolves. "Hey, look Der, the cavalry is here," I commented just as a spray of bullets flew towards us. Derek pushed me out of the way, both of us hitting the ground.

I heard a gasp of pain, which could have easily been me because holy crap the impact hurt my side, and felt my shirt get grabbed. I was hauled to my feet, my eyes coming face to face with the yellow eyes of the hunter/werewolf.

"I had a plan," he growled shoving me into a wall, sending more pain through my side. "Kill your Alpha boyfriend, become an Alpha myself, and slaughter what remained of his pack." He shoved me into the wall again. "I debated grabbing you, but then thought what would be the point?" he shoved me a third time, knocking the breath from my lungs. "But, but now I heard that little declaration, after the 'oh so touching' one in the mutt's car, and I figured…" he shrugged, "…why not kill his mate before I kill him."

Mate? What? "W-wait… maybe you should think…" I heard a growl, a deep, thunderous growl, from right behind the hunter/werewolf. He let me go, and I slid to the floor, watching as he turned around, his eyes falling on Derek.

Or, I think it was Derek. I don't remember him being able to turn into a full wolf. The wolf growled, his eyes flashing red, and dived at the werewolf/hunter, knocking him to the ground. I scrambled away from the fight, using my uninjured arm, wincing as the movement pulled on my side.

I watched as (okay I'm just gonna call it Derwolf) the Derwolf attacked the hunter/werewolf. They rolled around on the ground, both ripping into one another. Twice, the hunter/werewolf kicked the Derwolf in the side, causing him to yelp in pain. The fight ended brutal and bloody, with the hunter/werewolf dead on the floor.

It was quiet for a moment, my wide eyes locked on the dark wolf. I swallowed, trying to find my voice, and softly said, "Derek." The Derwolf's head snapped up, looking me right in the eyes, and he slowly moved towards me.

"D…D…" I back away from him, my back pressing into the wall. Human Derek didn't scare me, partially changed Derek didn't scare me, but this Derek, this Derwolf, did because I didn't know what he was capable of. Peter had been different, Peter had had control, had shifted beforehand, Derek hadn't. This was his first shift, anything could happen.

"D-Derek," I said softly, lifting a shaking hand, letting it rest on his face. "Derek, it's…"

"Stiles," he gasped and slowly started to shift again. Back into a human, back into _my _Derek. "Stiles," he said again, his voice breathy, and then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed on the floor.


	16. Epilogue

**Hey, first let me thank my reviewrs: random-nasha, WolfLover1989, Kieron77, flthyltlscrt, Jerry1942, and 'Guest' for their reviews.**

**Second, this is it guys. I want to thank everyone who alerted, favorited, and stuck to this story until the very end. I know I angsted all over the place, leaving a mess of misery and drama throughout each chapter, but I really did try to write fluff for the ending.**

**Third, thanks for reading, leave me a comment if you can, and I will see you in the next story.**

**And forth, I do not own what is not mine.**

**SEE YA!**

* * *

So, our side survived. There were a few injuries: Scott managed to take a bullet to the shoulder, Jackson broke his tail bone, and Argent took an arrow to the knee (so help me, if you make a Skyrim reference I will be totally pissed) trying to protect my dad. I think he's my new best friend.

The hunters lost five, including the werewolf, and my dad put the last two in jail. Our house was full of bullet holes, but it was a price to pay when dealing with werewolves and hunters.

My dad and Mrs. McCall bonded over the whole 'werewolves are real' thing, so he's not so freaked out over the prospect of a pack full of them living in Beacon Hills anymore. And he's starting to come around to the idea of other supernaturally spooky things coming to town and hurting the residents. He and Argent get together every Saturday now and Chris will talk him through the creatures, telling him how to kill them, and the police station also started using special kinds of bullets courtesy of the Argents.

Am I driving you crazy, yet? Do you want to hit me? I know I haven't said much about Derek and me. Just give me one more moment to revel in the anger you guys are feeling… Okay, I'm done.

Derek is fine; I did say our side survived. Deaton was able to patch up his side, and he slept off the affects of the drugs and his first transformation. Apparently, according to _both_ Peter and Deaton (though, I trust Deaton more than Peter; I'd trust pretty much anyone before I trusted Peter) the first full-on, wolf transformation took a lot out of the Alpha. But that's okay; I got my creep on, sat by his side while he slept it off, and again cursed myself for not taking pictures.

It was a week after our 'adventure', and I had finally taken Deaton up on his offer. That door thing was awesome, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to have something up my sleeve; 'research guy' could only get me so far.

Smoke billowed in my face, and I waved it away coughing. "I think I did it wrong," I said and Lydia rolled her eyes while Derek fought a smile, both waving their hands to clear the smoke, too.

"It was a valiant first attempt," Deaton said kindly, waving his own hand.

"It was a shitty first attempt," I corrected looking down at the burnt pencil. I was supposed to be trying to make it float.

"Maybe fire is your thing," Lydia suggested snapping her fingers, making the charred pencil rise and hover for a few seconds before letting it rest on the table again. "We can't all be good at the air spells."

"I'm Harry Dresden," I announced with a sigh.

"Does _that_ make me Susan, Anastasia, or Molly?" Derek asked quirking an eyebrow, and I gave him a wide eyed stare.

"You _actually_ got that reference?" I exclaimed and he merely smiled. "You're Murphy. She's more kickass and better suited for Harry."

"That makes me a foot and a half shorter than you," he protested and I beamed.

"Ugh, you two flirt like nerds," Lydia commented and we threw her dark glares. "But that's totally cute. Your stares are almost exactly the same," she gushed reaching into her bag. She pulled out her camera, snapping a picture. She glanced at the screen, making a face. "Derek, your eyes ruined the photo."

"I think it looks cool," I told her looking at the screen over her shoulder.

"I think you guys learned enough for today," Deaton said with a smile, cleaning up the remains from my failed spell attempt. "See you next Thursday."

"Bye," Lydia and I said while Derek waved and we walked out of the building. Lydia bid us good-bye once outside, getting in her car, while Derek and I slowly walked down the sidewalk. We had gotten a ride from Scott, and silently agreed to just walk back to my house; he probably wouldn't answer my calls anyway, and really, it was a nice day out.

"When do you get the Camaro back?" I asked curiously, swinging our hands back and forth. Derek wasn't a 'hand holding' type of person, but I was and he just had to get used to it.

"Next Friday," he replied softly.

"At least they were able to save it," I responded slowly. "I mean, I know how much that car means to you." He gave me a small smile, squeezing my hand. I smiled back, taking a deep breath. "So…"

"So…"

"When are you taking me on a date?" I asked changing the subject. Anything about Laura and his family bummed him out (and bringing up the Camaro, Laura's pride and joy, wasn't exactly helping him), and I hated seeing him all broody. He needed more joy in his life, more spontaneity, more Stiles.

"Wasn't _this_ a date?" he asked and for a moment I actually thought he was serious, but then I noticed the grin on his face.

"Ass," I muttered, lightly punching him in the side. "Seriously, I expect something awesome for our first date; epic if need be; like laser tag, maybe putt-putt. I am _awesome_ at putt-putt. My dad and I used to…" A pair of tickets were shoved into my uninjured hand, shutting me up. I glanced down at them, my mouth falling open.

"They're playing next week at Dodger Stadium. It took me forever to…" Maybe throwing myself at him was a little excessive, but I didn't give a crap. He had gotten me Mets tickets, and I really didn't care who saw the kiss I gave him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I said quickly, peppering his face with more kisses. He deserved every single one of them.

"I'd hate to see you excited," he stated sarcastically and I threw him a playful glare. "I'm glad you like them. It'll be a few hours' drive to Los Angeles, and I already asked your dad if you could…"

"So _that's_ why he was smiling this morning," I responded chuckling. My dad was such a nice guy; wanting to see me happy.

"He was smiling because I invited him along," he admitted and my smile dropped slightly. "I figured it was the only way he'd let you go. Besides, I sorta like having him around; he's cool." Cool? My dad was cool? Jeez, maybe Derek and him really _should_ go fishing.

"No, that's okay," I said after a long pause. "I mean, it's a little disconcerting to have my dad with me and my boyfriend on our first date, but who gives a flying crap because we are going to see the Mets."

He shook his head, walking a little ways ahead of me, leaving me to my euphoria. This was quite possibly the _best_ first date ever. Of course, I hadn't ever been on an _actual_ date before, so I didn't _have_ anything to compare it to, but I figured it _had_ to be in the top ten or something.

I grinned, stashing the tickets in my back pocket, turning to face Derek's back. He was walking slow enough so I could easily catch up, and my grin turned wicked. With a running start, I leapt forward and landed on his back.

He made a noise in surprise, and I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. Resting my chin on his shoulder I softly said, "You know, Der, there are movies to go along with those books you've been reading."

"More Harry?" he playfully complained, rolling his eyes. "How popular is this guy?"

"Well, when you have thousands people dressing up like him during the movies' releases…" I trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks. "We could watch the movies if you'd like."

"Shouldn't I finish the books first?" he asked curiously, looking at me.

"You're on book four, right?"

"Halfway through," he confirmed nodding.

"Maybe I'll read the rest to you," I suggested shrugging.

"Lydia's right," he started slowly, looking ahead, "we really do flirt like nerds."

"And you are the nerdest of them all," I commented grinning.

He turned to look at me again and softly said, "God, you're annoying."

"Admit it," I retorted waggling my eyebrows, "you _love_ that about me." Just like he had in my room, a few weeks ago when I made the same comment, he merely smiled, kissed me, and slowly started walking towards my house.

I knew things wouldn't always be this good between us. There was still a shit ton of supernatural creatures out there, still a horde of hunters that wanted his kind and their supporters dead, and who knew what else was looming around, waiting to strike. I also knew that we'd face whatever came next together. But, until then, we'd just be content being us because, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

**The End…**


End file.
